Soulmates
by Laurie1
Summary: An alternate ending to Anne of the Island, with added angst and mush both.
1. Part 01

Author's Note  
  
For those of you who have read Anne of the Island, the third book in the Anne of Green Gables series, my story begins subsequent to chapter 40, "A Book of Revelation" and is in place of chapter 41, "Love takes up the Glass of Time". The only change I made is that before learning of Gilbert's illness, Anne is staying with her friend Stella rather than at Echo Lodge with Miss Lavender. This is an indispensable change for several reasons, as you will find out.   
  
For those who haven't read Anne of the Island, a little background information is necessary. Gilbert Blythe has been in love with Anne Shirley since they were young. They were enemies at first, and then became friends. They went off to Redmond College together, where Gilbert proposed to Anne sophomore year. Anne refused, citing the fact that she didn't see him that way and didn't want to ruin their friendship; however, her rejection in effect did just that. The next year, Royal Gardiner, a rich, handsome student exactly like her dream Prince Charming, swept Anne off her feet. He courted her, and asked her to marry him at the end of senior year. Anne surprised everyone, including herself, by declining. Afterwards she realized she didn't really love him, it was just a "flattered fancy" because he was like her ideal. Meanwhile, Gilbert, aside from almost working himself to death in school, was taking around a pretty girl named Christine Stuart. Rumor had it they were on the point of a betrothal. Anne returned to Green Gables disillusioned, then went away for two weeks, only to come back to discover that Gilbert Blythe is dying. She then realizes that she is in love with him, and always has been, and they belong together. Finally, at the point after which my story begins, Anne finds out that Gilbert's health has taken a turn for the better, and he will live.  
  
I  
  
Anne sat down, her back leaning against a tall tree in the Green Gables orchard. Dusky circles ringed her green-grey eyes, signifying the fact that she hadn't slept much since that fateful night, a week ago. Happiness that Gilbert had recovered consumed her; yet reality had set in since her moment of revelation. She was no longer quite so certain that the stars of that white night hadn't played a trick on her. Did she and Gilbert belong together? What about Christine Stuart? Redmond gossip ran that their engagement was imminent. To be sure, everyone had said the same thing about she and Roy, but that was-different.   
  
She picked up her sewing, attempting to focus on the minute stitches. She had so much to do today-she couldn't stop to ponder these tough questions. She had to finish this dress; oh, and iron all her Redmond clothes, now hanging merrily on the line. They'd been kept in a suitcase throughout her fortnight-long trip with Stella. For that reason she had put on an old brown dress she had worn during her schoolma'am days. She hadn't had time to do her hair that morning, so she just pinned the braids she'd worn to bed up around her ears. "I almost look like I'm seventeen again," she thought with a laugh. Then Anne sighed. If she could be seventeen again, what would she do differently?   
  
Gilbert rounded the corner into the lane that led to Green Gables. He whistled to himself, but more out of apprehension than general enjoyment of life. He hadn't really talked to Anne since Diana's wedding last summer. Sure, he had spoken quite affably with her throughout the year; several times, in fact, but not a real conversation. Whenever he was around her, ever since the day she'd refused him sophomore year, he put a mask on, so to speak. He had not dared hope, not since Gardiner came into the picture. Who in their right mind would refuse him? No one, especially not Anne, since Gardiner was point-for-point the ideal Anne had always so frustratingly described to him. Sometimes-most of the time-he thought he shouldn't interfere; after all, Gardiner was rich, and could give Anne the life she deserved. Besides, they were in love with each other-weren't they? There were a few, scattered moments, however, that caused him to doubt it. Hadn't Anne worn the flowers that he, Gilbert, had given her at Commencement? And he still remembered the times, long ago now, it seemed, where she would blush tellingly under his gaze. Only the blush hadn't been so telling, after all. Or had it? He recalled the turning point in his slow recovery, a short epistle from Phil telling him "there was really nothing between Anne and Roy" and advising him to "try again". He had recuperated rapidly after that, but now faced with the prospect of seeing Anne, was not so sure. Was Phil telling the truth? Did she just want to give him good news so he'd recover faster? Did she not like Gardiner, and thus was trying to get him to break up the match? Or did she, Gilbert thought sardonically, like the majority of the world besides Anne, think they were meant to be together and was trying to pull it off?   
  
He stopped suddenly upon entering the orchard. Anne was sitting, ignorant of his presence, under a tree, steady in her concentration over the tiny stitches. He looked at her-she was so lovely, with the sun and the brown dress bringing out russet tints in her hair. A little pale, yes, but a soft flush gradually began to creep up her face.  
  
Anne felt the usual prickle on the neck she got when aware someone was behind her. All of a sudden, the back of her neck started to feel hot. She flushed, and turned around, knowing very well who was there.  
  
She fixed her eyes upon Gilbert's for a moment, then reddened and looked down. Were her senses tricking her, or was he looking at her in a very, well, memorable way? His face had a rather pallid look, and he seemed somehow older, as if his illness had made him put his childhood behind him forever. Anne abruptly remembered what she was wearing, and she blushed deeper. To be caught by Gilbert Blythe in such a get-up as this! It seemed like the essence of one of her nightmares.  
  
Gilbert, oblivious of Anne's embarrassment, opened his mouth but could not speak. Everything he tried to say suddenly seemed stupid and commonplace.  
  
Anne broke the stillness. "Gilbert," she said, "I - I'm so glad you're well. I only found out you were ill a week ago, and then they told me you were dying-I - I couldn't go to you-I prayed for you-but, th-that night you took the turn-Pacifique, he told me, and I was so happy," she continued brokenly.   
  
Gilbert was silent.  
  
"And - and, I hadn't, um, seen you in a long time, so I, uh, felt bad," Anne finished lamely.  
  
"Thank you-for praying for me. Perhaps that's what did it, for the doctor said he hadn't seen anyone survive such a close shave in a long time," he said nonchalantly.  
  
Anne smiled slightly. "Maybe now I'll have utmost faith in the powers of heavenly prayer. But goodness, Gilbert, you nearly killed yourself at college. I saw you once and you were awfully pale. Congratulations on the Cooper prize, though."  
  
"Thanks-although I'm not sure it was worth nearly expiring for," he said ruefully. "I figured I needed to strive for something, since I wasn't caught up in the social whirlwind like some people."  
  
Anne glared at him, then thought to herself that he'd certainly found enough time to take Christine to all the major events on the social calendar.  
  
Then, seeing Gilbert's eyes on her dress, she read them wrongly and said quickly, "Oh, I-my dresses are all hanging on the line, and I had nothing to wear but this old one. Today was just supposed to be a getting-stuff-done day."  
  
"Oh, no," Gilbert responded. "I was just thinking how your dress reminds me of that old one you wore to that one concert."  
  
"My old brown gloria." Anne replied dreamily. "My first pretty dress."  
  
Gilbert continued recklessly, "That was the night I picked up the flower you dropped and put it in my pocket."  
  
Anne blushed, and looked away.   
  
Gilbert silently cursed himself. Now, in the presence of his long-sought ideal, he could see what a fool he was being. Of course she was marrying Roy Gardiner. Phil must have been lying to him. But he wouldn't ask her-or anyone else. Why ask about such an apparent thing? Anne's blushes-of course, he must have read them erroneously. Obviously they were just the blushes of an uncomfortable friend embarrassed by her other friend's stupid lovesick attentions. Yes, that must be it. It all made sense now. Well, he would not strive after her-he would not pursue. He had asked her a question and she had given an answer-he would accept it. He had the Blythe pride to consider-and Blythes did not philander.   
  
Gilbert proceeded to steer the conversation in another direction, and chatted quite pleasantly with her about non-dangerous subjects for about a half an hour. He expertly veiled the love in his eyes, and fooled Anne so well, as he had before, that she thought she must have imagined that look into them.  
  
Anne sighed inwardly. Clearly she had been ridiculously mistaken. Well, one could never be quite sane in the wee hours of the night. Gilbert Blythe had no notion of her. Talking to her just the same as before-as if they were casual acquaintances! Well, fine then. He must have just been infatuated sophomore year, like Mrs. Harmon Andrews said. Very likely he was engaged to Christine. Well, she wouldn't ask him about it-she wouldn't. Of course there were no such thing as soulmates. Miss Lavender-and Phil, they were a little foolishly romantic. Wait, now, what was that? Anne came back from her reverie as Gilbert broke the silence.  
  
"Did you want to go for a walk this afternoon? We could go to Hester Gray's garden by way of the Birch Path and Lover's Lane, and stop by all the old haunts?"  
  
"Oh, I wish I could, Gilbert," Anne responded slowly, "but I have to finish this dress for Alice Penhallow's wedding tonight. I just got the material from Carmody yesterday. I was thinking of wearing it with these flowers" gesturing "in my hair. Won't that be sweet?"  
  
A vision of Anne, in the pale green dress with starflowers in her ruddy hair, presented itself to Gilbert and made him catch his breath. But he just said lightly, "Are you to be bridesmaid in the wedding, Anne?"  
  
"Oh, heavens, no. I'm not quite that well acquainted with Alice. Besides, I've been bridesmaid to both Diana and Phil already. You remember the old adage? Three times a bridesmaid…" Anne smiled.  
  
"Never a bride," finished Gilbert, also smiling. Privately he thought, though, that Anne didn't really need to worry about the proverb, considering she had Gardiner.  
  
"Oh!" Anne exclaimed. "I know. Diana and I were supposed to walk down to Miss Lavender's-rather, Mrs. Irving's-tomorrow, since they are home for the summer, but little Fred has a cold and she can't (or won't, I'm not sure which) leave him. Why don't you come with me, and we can have our jaunt?"  
  
"All right. I just had an inkling to see Echo Lodge, anyway. I imagine Paul has grown-probably about as tall as you now, huh?"  
  
"Probably as tall as you!" laughed Anne. "He is 16, and you know his father is all of six feet."  
  
"Well, tomorrow then," said Gilbert, taking his leave through the orchard lane.  
  
Anne watched him go, then put her head in her hands.  
  
"Oh, what a fool I am!" she groaned inwardly. "What a stupid little fool. Christine-of course he's marrying Christine, her of the radiant loveliness. I hope he couldn't read my face. At least I didn't say anything-not to him, or anyone."  
  
She went back to her sewing, but her thoughts were not on the needle and thread. Rather, she was assessing past events in her mind. How could she have been so blind? Looking back, it must have been crystal-clear to everyone but herself (and Roy, poor, stupid Roy) that she was in love with Gilbert. She remembered blushing under his gaze, the queer beat her heart gave when she saw him coming up the lane, the pleasant sensation after he touched her, the bitter jealousy she had felt of Christine, Ruby, even Phil; well, she couldn't go back and fix it. She would have to move on. 


	2. Part 02

II  
  
Gilbert trudged back up the Green Gables lane, whistling again. He would have to do what he could to appear indifferent before Anne. Certainly, he thought dryly, he had experience at that. He gasped as he glimpsed Anne through the trees. Clearly, she had taken more pains with her dress than yesterday; he didn't know whether to be exultant over that or not.   
  
Anne wore a green dress, not a pastel shade like at the wedding, but a deeper, truer green; one that brought out the starry flecks in her eyes and complemented her hair perfectly. It, too, was an old dress; one from freshman year that Anne recalled that Gilbert had said he liked especially. Her hair, done up in the newest fashion, was softly framing her face. Christine Stuart would not outdo her there, at least.  
  
Gilbert, his eyes taking all of this in, thought she had never looked so lovely. Well, Roy Gardiner was getting a prize.  
  
Anne, glancing sidelong at Gilbert as they walked down the path, thought he was not so pale as the day before. His cheeks were rather flushed, and his eyes retained some of the old spark.  
  
They talked amiably on the trek to Echo Lodge, of recollection of the days of their youth; some subjects, however, were noticeably left alone. Something of their old comradeship returned; to Anne, though, that paled in comparison to the roses of love.   
  
Their hands accidentally brushed together once. Anne blushed as what seemed to her like an electric shock moved through her body. Gilbert glanced involuntarily at her left hand-then did a double take and stared at it again. It appeared to be a normal, lily-white hand, but what made it so extraordinary to Gilbert was the conspicuous lack of a ring on her fourth finger. Certainly Roy Gardiner wasn't so strapped for cash that he couldn't afford or had to save up for an engagement ring. Then what of the absence? Anne couldn't have refused him. Right? But a faint glimmer of hope began to burn in Gilbert's heart. 


	3. Part 03

III  
  
Upon hearing voices in the yard, Miss Lavender [I continue to call her that from force of habit, Mrs. Irving doesn't really seem to fit] peeked out the window. She supposed the voices to belong to Anne and Diana, whose arrival she anticipated that day, and gave a slight start when she viewed Gilbert Blythe coming up the walk with Anne. She had heard of his illness and subsequent recovery-no, there was another reason for her astonishment. From reading between the lines in the few bits and pieces of Anne's letters concerning Gilbert, she had noted that their friendship had become somewhat strained since Anne's refusal. She'd also figured out that Gilbert had taken up with another girl, a Christine something, of whom Anne had tried hard but with little success to hide her distinct jealousy. And of course Miss Lavender knew of Anne's courtship by the wealthy suitor, Royal Gardiner. Indeed, in Anne's last letter, she had written that she expected him to propose any time now, and had given strong hints that she intended to accept. Miss Lavender noticed, however, as only one with the experience of bitter pride and heartbreak possibly could, that Anne did not seem quite so excited over this as she ought to. Too well she knew the reason. If only she could pound some sense into that proud, intelligent but really oh-so-dense head of Anne's. She had seen Gilbert and Anne together since Anne was seventeen, and if ever two people were meant to be together, it was the two of them. There was this connection between them, something so innate that she couldn't even begin to describe it. And now they were here, together, Miss Lavender thought. Was there a possibility that… But no, it was impossible now, wasn't it? Or not? After all, she and Stephan Irving had reconciled after years of estrangement. And she and Stephan didn't quite have, she was willing to admit, the bond that Anne and Gilbert had.  
  
Gilbert and Anne, unconscious that Miss Lavender was at that moment attempting to piece together their past and future in her mind, trudged up the lane to Echo Lodge.  
  
"My, this place brings back old memories, doesn't it?" laughed Anne. "The echoes, Charlotta the Fourth's blue bows-that looked so like horns-Miss Lavender and Stephan Irving's wedding…" Anne reddened and looked down as her voice trailed off. There was one recollection of the wedding that stood out in her mind-the moment when she had first sensed that Gilbert's feelings toward her might not be completely platonic.  
  
It was at this instant, with Anne, cheeks red and eyes downcast, and Gilbert, gazing at her with a rather intent look, that Miss Lavender came out to greet them. Peering at them rather quizzically, she ushered the two inside.   
  
Genialities were exchanged, and then Miss Lavender said, "Well, I was just going to call Stephan and Paul to dinner. Why don't you two sit down, and I'll go get them."  
  
************************************  
  
The atmosphere at the dinner table seemed charged. Miss Lavender could feel it, Stephan Irving could feel it, and even Paul, with his as yet untrained senses, could tell something was up. Gilbert was talking pleasantly with Stephan of some new medical breakthrough, and Paul was filling in his old teacher on all the new lessons he had learned. The tension was almost palpable, though, and finally, at a lull in the conversation when Paul at last stopped for breath, Miss Lavender inquired of Anne, "So tell me, what has happened with you and Royal? Did you set a date yet?"  
  
Gilbert rolled his eyes. Just what he needed, to hear the mind-numbing particulars of Anne's relationship with Gardiner. He tried to immerse himself in his discussion with Stephan Irving.  
  
Anne colored. All of a sudden she felt tongue-tied. She realized she had never written Miss Lavender about her refusal of Roy. And to go over it in front of Gilbert Blythe-well, there might possibly be another thing in the world that would cause her more humiliation, but she couldn't think of what it could be. Oh, this was horrid-just horrid! But she had to answer, because now Miss Lavender was looking at her oddly. It would be worse if she made a big deal out of it, Anne decided. She would just calmly, collectedly inform Miss Lavender of her decision to say no.  
  
"Well," Anne began. "There isn't really a date…"  
  
Stephan Irving noticed that Gilbert's voice was beginning to trail off.  
  
"What do you mean?" asked Miss Lavender, confused. "Did you two decide to have an extended engagement?"  
  
"Um, no, not-no. What I mean is, um, is that, well, we're-we're not exactly engaged."   
  
There was a sudden silence at the table, as Gilbert abruptly halted his conversation. He now turned his head toward Anne, staring at her intently. Anne took note of this and shocked, thought, "Goodness! Does he not know? How can he not know? He has to know." Oh, no, now she was more embarrassed than ever! And she had to go on and explain it-explain it to Miss Lavender and Gilbert!   
  
Miss Lavender, although bewildered, detected Gilbert's blunt silence, as did Stephan Irving. She then said blankly, "What on earth do you mean, Anne? You told me you were going to accept him. He did propose, right?"  
  
Anne fumed inside. Oh, she could just kill Miss Lavender. One would think she'd have a little more tact. To explain this before Gilbert Blythe-who was now hanging on her every word. Did he really not know that she and Roy weren't engaged? And the fact that Gilbert had Christine Stuart-he had someone and she didn't-made this ten times worse.  
  
"Well," Anne responded despairingly, "yes, Roy proposed, but I didn't-exactly-say yes. I-I said no."  
  
She was utterly conscious of Gilbert's eyes on her. She fiddled with her napkin, and looked everywhere except at him, blushing deeper by the second.  
  
"Why did you say no?" Miss Lavender inquired briefly.  
  
Anne shot a glance like a dagger in Miss Lavender's direction, who blinked and opened her eyes widely, pretending not to notice. Miss Lavender, in her own mind at least, was being diabolically clever. Anne had refused Roy! Meaning, of course, that she was free for, well… She could also tell Gilbert hadn't previously known this. Perhaps he was not as close to that Christine person as Anne thought.  
  
"I, um, I realized that I wasn't-I wasn't in love with him," said Anne. She gave up all hope at attempting to keep her dignity, and began to ramble on. "I-I mean, I thought I was in love with him, but it was like I imagined myself into love, you know? Of course you don't, only I would do something like that. Me and my imagination."   
  
Anne, completely flustered, started to say what she was thinking as she thought it, half-forgetting there were other people listening. "I suppose I was really horrible to Roy-leading him on like that and all. I didn't do it purposely; I truly thought I loved him. I do feel bad. I'm sure he'll get over it-but I think doing that to him was the biggest mistake I ever made." She paused, as if considering something. "Well, no, maybe the second biggest."  
  
"What was the first biggest?" asked Gilbert innocently, speaking for the first time since Anne had said she wasn't marrying Roy.  
  
Anne came back to earth with a start. Oh, no! Had she really been saying those words out loud? Her mouth went dry and she was unable to speak. For when she had corrected herself, demoting the way she'd treated Roy to second place, she had thought of her greatest mistake as the day when she had refused Gilbert. She could never tell him that. Had she even been listening to herself talk? Why on earth had she said that aloud? Stupid, stupid, stupid.  
  
Anne looked Gilbert in the eyes for the first time, really, for the entire day. She opened her mouth, then closed it, and blushed deeply. The tension seemed to mount as she paused. Then she looked away and stammered softly, in answer to his question, "I-I, I don't know. I was, um, just rambling on about-about nothing."  
  
Gilbert continued to stare at her, but she would not return his gaze. The way Anne had looked at him, just for that split second, had made his heart beat wildly. So Phil had not lied when she had written that there wasn't anything between Anne and Gardiner. Could Anne, possibly…? No, he wouldn't allow himself to dwell on that. But what had she meant, second greatest mistake? She had seemed to know what she was talking about until he had asked the question. Why had she gone to pieces-and flushed-and looked at him like that? 


	4. Part 04

IV  
  
An awkward silence ensued, and continued until Anne's inquiry of the weather in Boston returned the atmosphere to normalcy. Miss Lavender's calculating mind, however, was running like clockwork. She attempted to get a look in Gilbert's eyes, but his face was a study. He looked almost as if he'd just had an epiphany. She waited for a break in the conversation, and then turned to face him.  
  
"So I've heard your name bandied about with a Christine-Stuart, is it? Anne tells me she is very lovely."  
  
There. She had dropped the bomb. Anne made a motion as if to raise her hands in despair, but stopped herself and settled for glaring at Miss Lavender murderously.  
  
Gilbert gave a slight start, and involuntarily glanced at Anne, who attempted to shape her face into an expression of indifference.  
  
"Christine Stuart?" he said unbelievingly. "Why, there was never anything between me and Christine Stuart!"  
  
Anne's jaw was not the only thing that dropped as her fork fell with a clank to her plate. As everyone's head turned towards her, she colored and made a show of picking it up and occupying herself with her potatoes. Her ears, however, were pricked.  
  
Miss Lavender raised her eyebrows.  
  
"Christine and I were never anything more than friends. I knew her older brother, and after he graduated, he asked me to look after her a bit. I didn't mind. She's one of the nicest girls I've ever known. But she was engaged to someone back home. I knew people put our names together, but…" his voice trailed off. Had Anne-had Anne been unaware of his true relationship with Christine? He had realized people had identified them as a couple, but after Anne refused him, he didn't much care about anything for a while, the least of all dispelling rumors. He again tried to catch Anne's eye, but she just stared unblinkingly at her potatoes, her features unmoving.  
  
Anne's head was spinning. All the gossip she had painstakingly tried to ignore, all those rumors that had caused bitter jealousy to stab her in the sides, had been untrue? Gilbert was not in love with Christine Stuart? How-how could he not be? She was gorgeous, and refined, and pleasant… But then, so was Roy. And Anne couldn't love Roy because-because she was smitten with Gilbert. So did Gilbert not love Christine because…?  
  
  
Author's Note:   
  
Sorry it took me so long to post this-also sorry it's so short. I've just been completely immersed in other things, what with school starting and all. A word of advice to all prospective high school juniors: Never, I repeat, never, take AP U.S. history, English Lit, and advanced Pre-Calc in the same year, especially when you combine it with being on the yearbook staff, sports editor of the newspaper, and playing soccer.   
If you like this story, (or have suggestions or constructive criticism for me) please review-maybe that will get me more motivated to continue. I'll try to make the next part longer.  



	5. Part 05

V  
  
After the seemingly endless, uncomfortable dinner had finally concluded, Anne, Gilbert, and the Irvings rose from the table. Miss Lavender turned to Anne and said, "Why don't you stay longer? We can have a nice chat-it will be just like old times."  
  
Gilbert gave a regretful sigh. "I really better be going. I promised my father I'd help him with something. Is that okay, Anne?"  
  
"Oh, I don't mind. In fact, I might just stay over all night, and walk back in the morning," Anne replied.  
  
Gilbert made a motion for the door.  
  
"Oh, no you don't, Gilbert Blythe! There's no way I'm letting you walk all the way home at this time of day. It's getting rather chilly out." Anne exclaimed.  
  
"Yes, I'll have Stephan get the buggy and drive you home," added Miss Lavender.  
  
Gilbert rolled his eyes. "No, I don't want you to go to all that trouble. I'll be fine."  
  
"Oh, it isn't any trouble," Stephan spoke up.  
  
"Besides, Gilbert, you really shouldn't be over-exerting yourself. You look a little flushed. Oh, I shouldn't have dragged you all the way out here!" Anne lamented.  
  
Gilbert was indeed very much flushed, but whether it was from over-exertion or the fact that Anne was standing very close, looking at him concernedly, I'll leave up to the reader.  
  
He gazed into her eyes for a moment, then felt that if she would just continue looking at him like that, he would acquiesce to anything.  
  
"All right, all right," he consented, his delight that Anne was so anxious about him winning over his annoyance.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
After Stephan and Gilbert left, and Paul departed to visit an old school friend, Miss Lavender and Anne were finally alone to discuss the day's events.  
  
Miss Lavender stared conspicuously at Anne, arms folded and eyebrows raised.   
  
Anne, blushing, looked at the floor.  
"Anne Shirley," Miss Lavender said, shaking her head with a sigh.  
  
"What?" responded Anne, lifting her face innocently.  
  
"Don't feign naivety with me, Anne. That was the most marked and obvious display of…well, I'll let you finish that sentence."  
  
"You needn't have been so cruel! I don't think I've ever been more embarrassed! 'Why did you say no?' I mean, that is a pretty interrogative question to ask even in confidence!"   
  
Miss Lavender smiled amusedly. "And why was it such an embarrassing question, Anne? Tell me that."  
  
Anne, pretending to ignore her, turned her head and looked away.  
  
"Because you're in love with Gilbert Blythe." Miss Lavender answered her own query.  
  
Anne sat down, and was silent for a moment. "Yes," she finally murmured.  
  
Miss Lavender waited, knowing that more was coming.  
  
"You were right all along," she resumed. "I was so-so stupid. It must have been so obvious to everyone but me that I loved him. And you tried to tell me, but I didn't listen. I didn't listen to anybody. I thought myself so wise in the affairs of the heart."  
  
"So when did you-well, realize?" Miss Lavender prodded.  
  
"It was that night-a little more than a week ago, when I came back from visiting Stella. Marilla and Mrs. Lynde told me Gilbert was dying. Then, I knew. And oh, it was horrible-because I couldn't-I couldn't go to him. Of course, he didn't die…thank goodness."  
  
"But you thought he was going to marry Christine Stuart," finished Miss Lavender. "And now, thanks to me, you know he's not. Goodness, Anne, why didn't you just ask him?"  
  
"I have some pride," Anne responded stiffly.  
  
"And look where it's gotten you! You thought he was marrying Christine, and he's not, and he thought you were marrying Roy, and you're not. Both of you have to swallow your pride," instructed Miss Lavender.  
  
"'Tis a bitter pill," smiled Anne. Then, more quietly, "You think he's still in love with me?"  
  
Miss Lavender gave an exasperated sigh. "Honestly, how dense are you? Did you not see the look on his face when you said that there was nothing between you and Roy? Do you not see the way he looks at you all the time? He clearly worships the ground you walk on."  
  
Anne sat silently. Miss Lavender continued, "But even he is better at hiding it than you. How can you possibly have any pride left? For goodness sakes, Anne, you dropped your fork!"  
  
"It slipped."  
  
"Funny. And 'my second greatest mistake'?"  
  
Anne gasped in distress. "You could tell what I meant by that? Oh, no! I-I didn't mean to say that. It just came out. I wasn't thinking."  
  
"I thought you said it purposely until the display you put on afterwards. But Anne, Paul could probably tell what you meant. Especially after the way you blushed and looked at Gilbert. It was as clear as saying 'My biggest mistake was turning you down, Gilbert'." Miss Lavender said, laughing.  
  
"Of course," she resumed, "if Gilbert is anywhere near as thick as you, then perhaps he didn't get it. But I don't understand you. Don't you want Gilbert to know you love him?"  
  
"No-I mean, yes, but-I don't know," Anne moaned. "I do, but I don't want to completely humble myself before him. I-I know you're right, but what if you're wrong?"  
  
"First of all, Anne, you just contradicted yourself. Secondly, he already made a fool of himself in front of you. Don't you think it's your turn now?"  
  
Anne thought for a moment. "I guess so…"  
  
Miss Lavender put her arm around the confused redhead. "When you're not sure, just think of what it would be like if you two were together."  
  
Anne stood up suddenly. "I do!" she said vehemently. "I-I am in love with him, and sometimes, when I think about him, or when I'm with him, I just-just get these feelings that are so powerful that I can't even begin to describe them. It kind of scares me-to set my heart so much upon one human being."  
  
Miss Lavender rose also, beaming. She knew that, somehow, this would all turn out all right. "It's getting late, Anne. You can sleep in the spare room-I know what a thrill that used to give you. I'll get you an extra nightgown." 


	6. Part 06

VI  
  
Gilbert sat wordlessly next to Stephan Irving, his neck leaning against the firm, upright back of the carriage. Stephan had always seemed to him a somewhat stoic fellow; he'd never really gotten to know him. Thus, the silence that hung in the air between them was uncomfortable-that is, until Stephan broke it with a rather unexpected remark.  
  
He turned to face Gilbert and then said, "You're still in love with her, aren't you?"  
  
Completely taken aback, Gilbert, at first at a loss for words, leaned forward suddenly. "Ex-excuse me?" he finally managed to spit out.  
  
Stephan Irving smiled. "Anne," he said simply. "You still love her."  
  
"I-I heard you," Gilbert answered, still in shock.   
  
Stephan smiled wider. "You're not denying it, are you?"  
  
"No, no-I mean, ye-no. What I meant to say was-how-how did you know?"   
  
"Oh, lots of ways. The way you look at her when she's not watching, how your ears got red when she insisted I take you home, etc. But most telling was how you abruptly ceased our conversation when she announced she wasn't marrying that Roy fellow. Plus, I knew you proposed to her before. My wife's not the only one who's taken an interest in you two." Stephan revealed.  
  
"It was really that obvious?" Gilbert asked, beginning to regain his composure.  
  
Stephan let out a large guffaw. "Both of you!"  
  
"Both of us?" Gilbert raised his eyebrows.  
  
"Were you even awake at dinner? Did you see how embarrassed Anne was when telling us-most accurately, you-about Roy? And she let go of her fork in shock when you said that you and whatever girl she thought you were in love with amounted to nothing."  
  
"You think," began Gilbert slowly, "that Anne is in love with me?"  
  
"Are we taking about the same Anne here? The one who said 'My second greatest mistake' and then looked at you oh so tellingly? I didn't think there was any doubt." Stephan said, shaking his head.  
  
"Whoa, back up. What was so telling about 'My second greatest mistake'? You think she meant--" Gilbert paused, almost unwilling to even bring himself to say the word, "me?"  
  
Stephan simply nodded.  
  
Gilbert leaned back again, letting all the thoughts that were cramming into his head take over his brain. Could Anne really love him? He had thought it might be possible at dinner, but Stephan seemed so certain. Goodness, how many years had his adoration been unrequited? Six? Seven? He didn't even remember anymore, nor did he even care, as long as it was now requited. He wanted nothing more than to see her now, to find out if… But he would wait until morning.  
  
  
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Author's Note:  
  
Okay, it's really short again. Sorry. I just spent all last night studying for a really hard test on Hamlet for English Lit. Here's a direct quote from my teacher to convey the difficulty level: "The plot isn't the point. It's the itsy-bitsy, microscopic, miniscule, irrelevent details that I'll test you on." Okay, so I added a couple adjectives.  
  
Also the story may seem slightly repetitious. I know where I'm going, though--I will get to the point eventually.  
  
Please review. I love reviews (and I know how you all love writing them).  
  
Just write what you're thinking in that little box down there. 


	7. Part 07

VII  
  
Author's note: Yes, I know, it took me a long time again. I apologize. But at least this one is a little longer. Thanks, everyone for reviewing. By the way, Emma, you made a wonderful pineapple.  
  
  
  
Anne stepped blithely down the main road through Avonlea. She had stopped at the post office on the way home from Echo Lodge, and there had picked up an interesting-looking letter. Upon opening it, she discovered it was an invitation to a banquet/dance at Avonlea Hall (of the infamous blue shade) in honor of Jane Inglis (nee Andrews). Apparently she and the Winnipeg millionaire she married had returned home from their honeymoon in Europe. Anne smiled at the irony. No one in Avonlea had cared much about Jane before, but now that she was the wife of a millionaire, they deemed her important enough to require a welcome-home banquet.   
  
Anne abruptly turned down a side road, the one that led toward the Blythe residence and, more distantly, Green Gables. She had intended to visit Diana and Fred, but had an ulterior motive for passing by Gilbert's house. Of course all the old set would be invited to this banquet, which looked, from the formal invitation, like it would be a major splurge.   
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Gilbert stood in his front yard, attempting to make some headway in painting the fence. Goodness, what had possessed his father to paint it red, of all colors, before? Now he wanted it changed to white. This meant, naturally, that Gilbert needed to cover the fence with several layers of paint so it wouldn't look pink.  
  
He paused, leaning against an unpainted portion of the fence. He, too, had already received his invitation. He planned to later amble over to Green Gables to see if Anne was attending the banquet, and then, casually, of course, ask if she would go with him.  
  
He looked up to see a female figure walking up the road. He craned his neck to see if it was Anne, but then grimaced upon realizing it was Josie Pye. Needless to say, he had no great liking for Josie Pye, who was antagonist to Anne's protagonist. He didn't, however, have nearly as much antipathy for her as Anne did, and at least attempted to be civil. He braced himself for a long, boring conversation.  
  
"Hi, Gilbert," Josie simpered, sidling up to him. She had always thought Gilbert Blythe very handsome, but he only had eyes for that carrot-headed vixen Anne Shirley. Anne certainly wasn't pretty, Josie thought, nor especially remarkable. She must have put a spell on all the men who had proposed to her, especially that rich Kingsport man.  
  
She looked down to see a piece of paper with fancy print on the ground near his feet. "Oh, Gilbert, did you get the invitation to the party for Jane? That should be such a splash! I hear they're getting the food from Charlottetown! And the musicians and decorations, why, the Andrews' are getting those all the way from Kingsport! Are you going?"  
  
Gilbert groaned inwardly. Could Josie's conversation possibly be dripping with any more italics? "Yes, I'm going," he answered in a monotone.  
  
Josie was not to be thus discouraged. "I have no idea where I'll get my dress. Certainly nothing I own will be good enough. I'll have to get something new, maybe from Charlottetown. I wonder if Jane will look any different after having traveled to Europe. What do you think, Gilbert?" she asked, looking up at him.  
  
Gilbert had caught, out of the corner of his eye, a familiar redheaded figure trudging up the lane. He stared at her, thinking of what he could possibly say to her when asking her to the dance.  
  
Josie turned around to see what Gilbert was gazing at. She rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated sigh, of which Gilbert was oblivious, upon realizing it was Anne Shirley. Was Gilbert still under her spell? She had been thinking of dancing with him at the banquet, but now that was out of the question. Unless… A wicked thought began to take shape in her head.  
  
Josie inched closer to Gilbert, and said, "So, Gilbert, who are you going to the dance with? I was going to go with my cousin, George, but he's out of town, so I don't have an escort."  
  
"Mmmmm," Gilbert mumbled in response, not really listening to Josie. Anne was advancing, and all he heard Josie say was "blah, blah, blah, blah".  
  
"So," she continued, taking another step nearer to him, so her shoulder was brushing against his, "I know you want to be a gentleman and take me to the dance, right?"  
  
"Mmmmm," Gilbert grunted again, completely wrapped up in his thoughts and insensible of Josie's words.  
  
Anne was now within hearing distance of the two, her face shaped into a slightly bemused expression to see Josie standing right on top of Gilbert. No doubt she was attempting to flirt with him, like always. Thank goodness Gilbert had always shared her dislike for Josie, and all of the Pyes for that matter.  
  
Josie smiled maliciously to herself. Her plan was working perfectly. She suddenly grabbed Gilbert's arm, and exclaimed loudly, "Oh, thank you Gilbert, I'm so flattered. Of course I'll go with you to the banquet, I would love to."  
  
Gilbert snapped out of his reverie and his face contorted into a look of bewilderment. Huh? What was she talking about? His head was spinning.  
  
At that moment, Anne approached the pair, her eyebrows raised.  
  
"Oh, hi, Anne!" Josie said in a falsely bright tone. "I was just talking to Gilbert about how I hadn't seen you since you'd returned from college, and then we got to talking about the banquet. Did you get an invitation?"  
  
Josie's question was evidently rhetorical, since she didn't stop speaking long enough for Anne to answer it. "Gilbert was talking about how he didn't have anyone to go with, so we decided to go together."  
  
Anne looked at Gilbert, stunned, as if to confirm this.  
  
Gilbert frowned. "Wha--" he started, and then thought for a moment. Oh, no, was that what Josie had been saying while he wasn't listening? What had he said? For the life of him, he couldn't remember. Had he agreed? How was he going to get himself out of this mess? She had probably asked him to the dance, and he, unknowingly, had agreed. Could he just reject her, or should he explain it to Anne? In despair, he panicked, and in his panic, couldn't think of a thing to say.  
  
Anne took his silence and the blank, glazed look in his eyes for indifference. For a moment, her face, totally crushed, could be read like a book.   
  
"Wait, no, I mean, no--" Gilbert finally stuttered.  
  
"Oh, it's okay, Gilbert, we can tell her," Josie interrupted. She had to make sure he didn't tell Anne what really happened, so she would just try to confuse him more and make Anne mad at him. To Anne, in a confidential manner, "We had intended it to be a surprise to people, but oops, you found out. Oh well."  
  
Anne seethed with anger. Not only did she absolutely detest Josie Pye, but how-how could Gilbert do this? Why didn't he say anything? What was going on? Goodness, she had been made a fool again-what had possessed her to show her disappointment so openly? She had been so sure that Gilbert loved her.  
  
Then, drawing up her ruffled dignity, Anne said icily, "Oh, it's okay, I won't tell. But--" her eyes brilliant with rage, fury finally getting the better of her, "Josie, just between you and me, watch Gilbert closely at the dance. He's been a bit muddled since his illness."  
  
Gilbert, who had been about to open his mouth to clarify the whole situation, closed it again. "Hey!" he said.  
  
"I am," Anne continued cruelly, ignoring him, "glad he found someone to go with. I was just in the depths of despair because I was afraid he would ask me to the dance."   
  
She dropped her tone to an audible whisper, as if to speak just to Josie, but loud enough so Gilbert could hear. "Ever since he begged me to marry him, I've been attempting to shrug him off, and goodness, I thought he was back to following me around again. Thank you, Josie. I hope to see you two at the dance."   
  
She turned to walk away, but Gilbert, now infuriated himself, grabbed her by the arm. All thoughts of trying to explain the circumstances flew out of his head.   
  
"What are you talking about? I hardly begged," he said in a dangerously quiet tone.  
  
"Begged, pleaded, asked, it's all the same to me," Anne responded, glowering at him and wrenching her arm free.  
  
Gilbert glared after her, then turned to Josie. "What time do you want me to come pick you up?" he asked.  
  
Josie smiled. It has worked like a charm. Today had been a good day. Not only had she infuriated Anne Shirley, but she had gotten handsome Gilbert Blythe to attend the banquet with her. She would do her best to captivate him there.  
  



	8. Part 08

VIII  
  
Author's note: Long time no write, eh? Okay, I'm SORRY. When you have the fate of two school publication resting (partially--okay, very partially) on your shoulders, in addition to soccer practice and mounds upon mounds of homework ::sob, sob:: ... Well, anyway, I'll try to be more, um, timely ::cough:: with writing the rest of my story. This part is very short--more is forthcoming. Enjoy.  
  
  
Anne shut the door to her east gable room, collapsed on her bed, and sighed, letting out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. Still engulfed in fury, she had thankfully escaped Marilla's concerned glances and Mrs. Lynde's curious stares, and now had time to think.  
  
What had happened? One minute she had been ambling along, convinced-yes, convinced, Anne thought ruefully-that Gilbert Blythe was still in love with her, and the next, what? Of one thing she was certain, that Gilbert Blythe had never liked Josie Pye. So why on earth would he ask her to the banquet?  
  
Then it hit her. She had acted like such a fool at dinner yesterday-why, even Miss Lavender had implied that she'd made herself ridiculous. So it must have been obvious to Gilbert-oh, no. Clearly he had become aware of her feelings, and asking Josie to the banquet was his way of subtly hinting his disinterest.  
  
Anne sat up suddenly, and put her head in her hands. Her anger rose again, but this time it was directed toward herself. Oh, goodness, what an idiot she had been, and in front of Josie, at that! How much satisfaction she must have gotten! Not only had Anne shown that she was hurt, but with the subsequent flare of her temper…oh, this was utterly awful!  
  
How could she have been so mistaken? Again!? Well, she was done with love-and Gilbert. Not that he would ever talk to her again after the demeaning insults she flung at him.  
  
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Gilbert, after a very confused parting from Josie, walked up the path toward his house, slightly dazed. He tried to go over the incidents of the last five minutes, but his head started to hurt. All he knew was that he had somehow been roped into attending the banquet with Josie, and was not entirely pleased at that fact.  
  
And Anne-he was furious with Anne. How could she say those-those utter lies? In no way had he begged. She was completely out of line, and why? Why would she even think that, let alone say it aloud with a witness?  
  
Then it dawned upon him. Of course, how stupid could he be? It was looking him right in the face. He had undoubtedly made a brassbound fool of himself at Miss Lavender's house over her-why, even stoic Steven Irving had noticed. Anne had evidently noticed too, and was annoyed-rightly so, she had already refused him once. Well he would not pursue her-he would not. Goodness, hadn't he already told himself that? Well, this time he meant it-even if it meant he had to be nice to Josie at the banquet.  
  
A little flicker of doubt still existed in Gilbert's heart, however, when he recalled the expression of unmistakable pain that had flashed across Anne's face when she came upon him and Josie. What had that meant-NO, he was done with her. He wouldn't think on it anymore.  
  



	9. Part 09

IX  
  
Anne Shirley and Diana Wright, laughing over little Fred's latest escapade, walked down the main road in Carmody. Samuel Lawson's store had just received some new fabric in from Charlottetown and both intended to purchase material for their banquet gowns.  
  
Anne had related to Diana all that had happened between her and Gilbert, up to a point-a very important point, in fact. Anne, although she certainly adored and trusted Diana to the utmost, had a sneaking suspicion that Diana told everything to Fred, and for this reason had left out one little part-that she, Anne, was in love with Gilbert Blythe.  
  
They made their entry in the store, upon which Diana was instantly captivated and dragged Anne over to a back shelf, "Oh, just look at this print! Isn't it just sweet?"  
  
Anne, in an extremely cynical mood just then, allowed herself a small sarcastic smile. It didn't matter much what she looked like at the banquet. But she should help Diana, whose Fred had given her money to "splurge" at Lawson's.  
  
Just as Diana was telling Anne that she would look "just sweet" in a certain yellow dress-"If I hear the word 'sweet' one more time I'm going to scream," Anne thought-the bell over the door rang, signaling the arrival of another personage into the store.  
  
Feeling a familiar pricking sensation on the back of her neck, Anne turned around slowly to see Gilbert and his friend, David Owen.  
  
"Why, it's Anne Shirley, of the Avery scholarship and Queen's fame!" David exclaimed, striding towards Anne, who threw one last attempt at an apathetic glance at Gilbert before turning her attention to him. David, who had been one of Gilbert's best friends at Queen's, was an extremely bright boy from the east side of the island, who, as Anne recalled, loved to argue. His father, who had inherited some money from European relatives, had sent David to law school in Toronto after Queen's. Anne hadn't seen him in at least five years.  
  
"David!" she said. "How are you doing?"  
  
"Scraped myself through law school tolerably well, thanks. You are now looking at a fully certified lawyer. Oh, don't look so impressed. You were brilliant at Queen's, I'm sure you could have done it. Tell me about your Redmond experience. Gilbert here was strangely uninformative. I can't imagine why. He was there too, wasn't he?"  
  
Anne turned toward David, so as to make sure there was no doubt that she was addressing him, and not Gilbert, who was currently glaring at his friend.  
  
"Well, I took Honors in English," Anne began.  
  
"-And she was proposed to by an extremely rich Kingsport man, but she refused him. He wrote her poems and everything. Isn't that romantic?" interjected Diana.  
  
David just smiled, but Gilbert, speaking for the first time, said coldly, "I regret to say I fail to see the romance in that."  
  
Anne turned towards him, her eyes very green. "You would," she said.  
  
He, too, turned to face her. "What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
Anne shrugged indifferently. "Whatever you make of it."  
  
"Just because I can't detect any romance in the fact that you were going to marry some man for his money and then thought better of it--" Gilbert mirrored her unconcerned attitude.  
  
Anne raised her eyebrows, appalled. "I was NOT going to marry him for his money!" she hissed.  
  
"All right, whatever, I'm not going to argue with you," Gilbert responded calmly.  
  
Diana and David watched this rapidly escalating conversation, both with slightly amused expressions and arms crossed.  
  
"No," Anne said, reflecting, "maybe I was wrong earlier. I mean, you do seem to have a habit of finding romance in places that don't warrant it." She smiled sardonically.  
  
Gilbert narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about?" he demanded, taking a step closer to her.  
  
Anne raised her eyebrows and shrugged again. "You tell me."  
  
It was Gilbert's turn to seethe. "I don't know what you're implying, Anne Shirley, but I do know one thing. I never"-he stopped and lowered his voice several octaves-"I never begged."  
  
His hazel eyes glinted dangerously, and his cheeks were red. Anne's normally pale face was glowing with anger.  
  
Diana and David both pretended to busy themselves with something else.  
  
Anne looked up at him and said sweetly, "All right, whatever you say."  
  
They were standing in a narrow aisle in the back of the small store that was blocked off at one end by a barrel of potatoes. Both were breathing rather heavily, and only in the slight pause did Gilbert realize how close he was to Anne. His heart, if not already beating rapidly enough, began to pump faster. A sarcastic retort died at his lips as he looked down at her flushed face.  
  
Anne caught the change in the atmosphere and blushed, not knowing where to look. The tension in the air was almost palpable. Finally Gilbert squeezed past Anne through the narrow aisle, brushing firmly against her and sending sparks of pleasure throughout her body.  
  
"I, um, forgot the barley my father wanted exchanged," he said briefly to David before exiting the store.  
  
"Have fun at the banquet with Josie," Anne, recovering her lost wits, called after him.  
  
"I will!" came the firm response.  
  
"And don't worry about me, because I didn't ride here or anything with you," David muttered, annoyed.  
  
Anne turned to address him. "Oh, don't worry. Diana and I can take you home," she said. Then, frowning, she asked, "Where is home, by the way?"  
  
"Oh, right. Well, I pretty much exhausted my father's inheritance at law school, and he returned to England to take over our family's business. I'm determined to pay him back, and so before I start my practice in the fall, I'm teaching the summer term at the White Sands school."  
  
"And you're not ridiculously over-qualified or anything," Anne smiled.  
  
"Yes, well," he shrugged.  
  
Diana dragged Anne's shoulder over to another shelf of cloth. "Anne, we have to pick out our dress material and patterns now. Your little "discussion" with Gilbert made us pressed for time. Remember I'm to have tea with Fred's mother at her house just outside Carmody at 3:00."  
  
"Oh, I forgot, I'm sorry, Diana!" Anne exclaimed, turning her attention to feminine matters.  
  
David rolled his eyes and waited patiently, leaning against the potato barrel.  



	10. Part 10

X  
  
Disclamer: Regretfully, I own nothing except Josie's cousin George and David Owen. Yes, I really exerted myself with the characterizations of those two ::laughs sarcastically:: Since L.M. Montgomery clearly won't sue me because she's no longer living, hopefully no one else will either, for I am making absolutely 0 (zero) $ off of this. And Shakespeare owns Hamlet. I don't know why I would want it, anyway. He can keep it.  
  
Anne stepped into the carriage, David following close after her. She grabbed the reins and drove off, taking a right at the fork in the road towards White Sands instead of going straight to Avonlea. After their purchases, they had left Diana on the walk up to Fred's parents' house.   
  
David looked at Anne, smiling amusedly. After catching him on the point of laughter several times, Anne finally turned to him and demanded, "What in heaven's name is so funny?"  
  
David just shook his head. "Gilbert told me he was going to the dance with Josie. I thought that was odd, considering how he's always disliked her."  
  
Anne said nothing, and stared straight ahead stonily.  
  
He just laughed again, and said, "Anne, you are so jealous."  
  
"Jealous, I'm not jealous!" Anne objected, taken aback. Then, seeing the annoying smile still lingering on his face, she backtracked and added, "Jealous of what?"  
  
"Oh, don't feign innocence, Anne Shirley, you know what I'm referring to," David responded.  
  
"I'm sure I don't," Anne returned irritatingly.  
  
David rolled his eyes. "Fine, you want me to be frank, I'll be frank. You're not entirely pleased with the fact that Gilbert is going to the banquet with Josie. That, along with other underlying factors, is why you just picked a fight with him in the store."  
  
"Well, he started it, not me," Anne shot back. "And I think you're mistaken, David Owen. I'm not jealous-not at all."  
  
"I'm not!" she repeated, seeing him shake his headed, clearly unconvinced. "Really, I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"'The lady doth protest too much, methinks'" he quoted airily, shooting her a meaningful glance.  
  
Anne gave an exasperated sigh. "Don't quote Shakespeare at me, David."  
  
"Anne, for goodness sake, take your 'antic disposition' off. It's not helping."  
  
"Oh, you're just on a roll now, aren't you," Anne said sarcastically. "You just waltz in here and observe me for half an hour, and you think you know exactly what I'm thinking. Well, you don't-you're wrong."  
  
"Oh, but I'm not, I'm right. ''Tis true, 'tis pity, and pity 'tis, 'tis true.' Anne, what happened between you two? Did he propose?"  
  
"Sophomore year," Anne replied resignedly. "And I refused."  
  
David looked at her scrutinizingly. So Anne had turned Gilbert down and must now regret it. Well, he didn't see what the obstacle was. Gilbert Blythe had always been head-over-heels about her. As far as he could gather, they'd gotten into another fight, and as a result Gilbert had asked Josie to the banquet. But why Josie, when any other (less irritating) girl would have served just as well to provoke Anne's jealousy?   
  
"At Queen's," David said abruptly, "Gilbert had this obsession about you."  
  
Anne nearly dropped the reins. "What?"  
  
"Yes. He made fun of you all the time to us. Then one day we found this old faded rose in a drawer in his dresser and teased him about it until he told us. Apparently it was a flower from some concert that you'd thrown and he'd picked up when you were 13. We gave him no end of it after that. He said it was because he hated you and it reminded him of his 'heated rivalry' with you, but we knew better."  
  
He didn't add, because of confidence with his friend, of what Gilbert had said about Anne in their numerous letters in the few years after Queen's. But it was clear, to him at least, that Gilbert was still in love with her. Not only had he seen them bicker, but he'd felt the romantic tension and noticed how, for a split second, Gilbert had gazed longingly at Anne.  
  
Anne still didn't say anything. That rose, hadn't-Anne grasped at the memory vaguely-hadn't Gilbert just mentioned that a couple days ago? Goodness, the way her feelings had gone up and down since then made it seem like a year.  
  
"You know," David continued, "I'm not attending the banquet with anyone. I'd be honored if you'd come with me, Anne Shirley, though Gilbert is to me as 'Hyperion to a satyr.'"  
  
Anne rolled her eyes and smiled at him. "Goodness, I thought you were going to say 'Get thee to a nunnery.' But certainly, I'll go with you, since you helped me pick out my dress and all."  
  
"I just wanted you to hurry up," he said. "Here, this is where I'm boarding. Thanks for the lift. On Saturday the tables will have turned."  
  
He hopped out of the carriage, and watching Anne drive away. She and Gilbert were both so stupid and stubborn. Well, he would have to see to that at the banquet. "'Oh cursed spite, that ever I was born to set it right,'" he muttered.  
  
  
Author's Note: Yes, in case you were wondering, I recently read William Shakespeare's Hamlet. Well, I don't know if "read" is exactly the right word--had it rammed down my throat is more like it. We read it at home, cross-examined it in class, went over it like 50 times for a completely murderous test, and saw a performance at Stratford. But I digress.Speaking of digressions, see that little box down there? The one that this ^ arrow would be pointing to if it were upside down? ::laughs crazily at her laziness:: Well, please use it and write at least a brief review if you like (or hate) this story. Please.  



	11. Part 11

XI  
  
Pre-Author's Note: YAY! I *knew* that making this a category would draw more readers. And I'm glad you all like my story ::dances around the room:: Anyway, since there seems to be some confusion about this, I actually *do* like Hamlet, I just wrote that right after an *extremely* stressful Hamlet test which made up almost my entire English Lit grade, so I wasn't exactly in a Hamlet happy-place, if you will. (I got an A on the test though ::dances around the room again::) And yes, I *did* think Paul Gross' portrayal of Hamlet, complete with sundry (help--too much Chaucer!) writhing, was, er, *interesting* Of course, I'm not a theater buff.  
  
The week preceding the banquet went by in a whirlwind for Anne. She and Diana busied themselves with their dresses, the patterns of which they would reveal to no one save Marilla, with whom they consulted and entrusted the secrets to take to the grave. Anne had strayed from her usual green and purchased the "just sweet" yellow patterned silk, while Diana had gone with a rosy pink (of which Anne was resignedly jealous). Anticipation for the event had risen to unparalleled heights for the event among Anne's set. Former Avonlea schoolmates had resurfaced from the ends of the earth-the White Sands hotel was full to bursting with Islanders who claimed some distant connection to Jane. Anne and Diana, as two of Jane's closest friends, were on the banquet decorating committee. The Avonlea Hall had been adorned and beflowered to the point of no return (but not repainted, much to Anne's chagrin-there hadn't been an adequate amount of time).   
  
Through all the hustle and bustle, Anne hadn't (or pretended she hadn't) had time to think about Gilbert at all until Saturday night. She lay on her bed, gazing at the ceiling, her yellow dress hanging finished in the closet. As always when her flashing temper subsided, she regretted some of the things she had said to Gilbert. His friendship, at least, would have been valuable, but now that was certainly impossible. She had insulted his pride-twice-in front of others. However ignorant she was in relationship matters, she at least knew that one did not do that to a man. What had possessed her to say those things? Her own pride, she guessed. Well, pride was said to come before a fall, and she had certainly fallen.  
  
Goodness, she was depressed. Now was the kind of time, when, five years ago, she would have signaled to Diana and divulged all her woes. But, Anne thought with a sigh, times had changed. She sat up and gazed out the window across the fields to Orchard Slope, to Diana's dark uninhabited bedroom. No one was there to answer the three flash signal now.  
  
She remembered with a jolt something that Diana had asked before she went to Redmond, if she cared for Gilbert Blythe. Goodness, even Diana had seen what Anne had been too blind to notice. Well, there was no use going over should-have-beens now. Although she was still confused about what had occurred at the store a week ago. She shuddered with pleasure over how he had looked at her, just for a split second. Ugh, she was confused. She sought refuge in sleep, not wanting to look like a raccoon at church the next day.  
  
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Gilbert likewise lay flat on his bed, eyes shut but not asleep. So David was taking Anne to the banquet. Fine. He was indifferent to the whole thing. Of course, knowing David had a girl in Toronto to whom he was on the point of being engaged helped to no end, but…   
  
He was *not* looking forward to escorting Josie to the dance. Somehow he had been conned into the whole job, and was not happy about it. Had he said something to lead her on? No, he doubted it. Was Josie that much of a conniving, malicious little sneak? What else could it be?   
  
Gilbert sat up abruptly and pounded his fist into his pillow. In his reflections, his memory of that day had suddenly returned to him. He saw himself gazing at the approaching Anne, daydreaming, and heard Josie speaking. He knew of her loathing for Anne, whom she too must have seen advancing. Ugh! Josie had probably only said he'd asked her to the dance to infuriate Anne. And he had fallen for it!   
  
Oh well, it had probably turned out best in the end. At least he'd found out Anne's true feelings before he'd made a complete fool of himself. Except for the fact that now he had to endure a whole banquet full of Josie Pye. The very thought made him sick to his stomach.  
  
One little thought nagged at him, though-Anne's blush under his gaze at the store the previous week. What-why-why did she constantly perplex him like that?   
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Diana yawned and stretched, lying down on her side of the bed. Little Fred had *finally* ceased his fussing. Fred (the big, her husband) was still straining his eyes over some pamphlet in the sitting room; heaven only knew if he had enough light. She left the candle burning for him, intending to drop off into a well-deserved rest.   
  
But something was bothering her-ah, yes, the predicament of her two bone-headed friends. Anne hadn't talked about Gilbert much, although Diana had tried to get her to open up. But Diana had thought they would make the perfect couple ever since Anne had cracked the slate over his head. And, indeed, nothing had happened since then to dispel her notion. Oh, of course, Anne had denied having feelings for him time and time again, but that made no difference.  
  
She recalled the last time she had seen them together, besides the amusing incident at the store. It had been at her wedding. They, as best man and maid-of-honor, had proceeded up the aisle in front of her and her father. The tension in the room had risen, along with the color in their faces, as Gilbert and Anne had met and locked arms. They had just looked *right* together. Oh, well.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
David Owen sat up suddenly in bed and silently cursed the stupid Prewitt baby in the next room who would *not* cease crying. But soon his thoughts turned to other things. The banquet on Monday would certainly be, well, *interesting*, especially if his little plot worked. Of course Anne and Gilbert were both too mule-headed to see through it, an aspect that made it especially diabolical. Actually, he thought to himself with a grin, there really wasn't much to his scheme at all-Anne and Gilbert were doing such a good job on their own, why ruin it? Eventually something had to lead them to each other, though. Why not him on Monday night? Then they would forever owe him and have to name one of their kids after him or make him godfather or something. That had a good ring to it-Godfather David.  
  
************************************************************************  
  
Anne filed into the Cuthbert pew at Avonlea church, sandwiched by the twins, Davy and Dora, with Marilla and bringing up the rear. It seemed like of all the things in her life that had changed, good old Avonlea and its church had remained the most stable. Of course, change had crept in even there, with the absence of some familiar faces and the addition of some new (and loudly bawling) ones.  
  
She glanced around the church before the service started. Oh, there was Josie Pye, looking quite self-satisfied under the shade of a new (and preposterously extravagant) hat. She caught Anne's eye and smirked. Anne rolled her eyes and looked away, inwardly seething.  
  
"Look, Marilla, it's Gilbert Blythe," Davy, who had been visiting a friend and not in church the past couple weeks pointed out in a whisper. "He doesn't look like he almost died at all. He looks fine."  
  
Marilla hastily shushed Davy and glanced quickly at Anne, wishing that boy had a little more tact. Anne, however, seemed to be in a state of oblivion-it didn't look like she had heard Davy at all.  
  
But she had. And she followed Davy's stare to the Blythe pew on the other side of the church. Yes, Davy was right, Gilbert was looking well. Oh, well, it was nothing to her. She remained, however, in the same foggy state throughout the entire service-at least, until the last hymn.  
  
"I have loved you, with an everlasting love," crooned the choir. Anne blinked suddenly, and stared at the words in her hymnal as if seeing them for the first time. She had heard (and sung) this song many times before, but…  
  
"I have called you, and you are mine."  
  
She lifted her eyes from the book and involuntarily glanced across the multitudes of people, to [you guessed it] the Blythe pew. Gilbert's deep hazel eyes met her grey ones.  
  
The choir repeated the refrain, "I have loved you, with an everlasting love/I have called you, and you are mine."  
  
Her eyes still locked with Gilbert's, Anne reflected that the song seemed to strike some sort of chord deep within her. Then, as suddenly as they had begun, the choir ceased singing-the song was over. People began to disperse.   
  
"Anne, come on," said Marilla, shaking her shoulder. Anne glanced one last time at Gilbert and colored, and then walked out behind Davy and Dora.  
  
Gilbert looked curiously after her, then shook his head a little to make sure he was awake. What had just happened?   
  
Post-Author's Note: Okay, I'm not quite sure who the song belongs to, so I can't disclaim it. But I do know that I don't own it. I'm also not sure (not being a Presbyterian myself) whether they would sing that hymn or not, but I heard it in my church and it struck me as appropriate, I don't know. Anyway, I think I've stretched it out long enough. We are finally going to get to the banquet next (unless I think of an additional plot complication. Any ideas?) where, I hope, there will be some sort of action. But not necessarily a conclusion. ::laughs evilly::  
  



	12. Part 12

XII  
  
Author's Note: Well, I lied. Kind of . You at least get the *beginning* of the banquet in this part. Anyway, more is forthcoming, and soon, since Christmas break is close at hand ::jumps up and down in joy:: Unless my evil teachers give me a lot of homework (which is ::sigh:: entirely possible)  
  
Monday and the banquet finally rolled around. Jane Inglis and her millionaire husband had reached port in mainland Canada on Friday, had sailed over to the Island Saturday, and spent Sunday in Charlottetown. Today they finally arrived in Avonlea, amid much pomp and fanfare (actually, just a large greeting by the extensive Andrews contingent).  
  
Anne took one last glance at herself in the full-length mirror in Diana's bedroom. She had taken her dress over to the Wrights' so she and Diana could help each other get ready. She leaned closer to the mirror, scrutinizing her face. Oh well, so she was a little pale. At least she wasn't painted, as Josie Pye no doubt would be.  
  
Diana took all of this in and rolled her eyes. "Come on, Anne, we're going to be late. We have to make sure the decorations are all set, remember? And goodness, you look fine."  
  
Anne turned to Diana. "Just *fine*?" she mock-whimpered.  
  
Diana rolled her eyes again. "Fine? What was I thinking? Ravishing." Then a sly smile began to creep up on her face. "Goodness, Anne, you seem to be going to a lot of trouble to look nice for David. Are there some secret feelings I don't know about?"  
  
"Yes, of course, I'm head-over-heels in love with David," Anne answered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I can't stop thinking about him. You know, I think he may be my Prince Charming."  
  
"Well," Diana continued, still smiling, "if it's not David, then who is it? Maybe your *first* rather than *second*, greatest mistake?"  
  
Anne dropped her jaw in astonishment. "Have you been talking to Miss Lavender?"  
  
"Yes, she dropped by today. I'm hurt that you didn't tell me, Anne. Although you didn't exactly do a good job keeping the secret-you're so obvious."  
  
Anne gave a sudden sigh. "You know what? I-I can't do this. Please-please don't mention him to me tonight. He's going with Josie, I'm obviously worth nothing to him."  
  
Diana raised her eyebrows. "All right," she said, "but he clearly *does* think you're worth enough to fight with."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Diana, true to her word, didn't say anything more about Gilbert as she and Anne rode with Fred and David in the Wrights' carriage to Avonlea Hall. David kept looking at Anne in amazement. He had never realized she was so pretty. But no, he reminded himself. He was just there to make sure destiny ran its course.  
  
The four were among the first to arrive at Avonlea Hall. Anne cringed at the first sight of the brilliant blue. That old mistake still hadn't lost its sting. And it had been the Pyes' fault, at that! Goodness, the Pyes were just thorns in her side.  
  
As if on cue, the Blythe carriage pulled up at that moment. Josie smirked at Anne as Gilbert helped her out of the carriage. Suddenly, though, her sneer transformed into a look of horror. Anne followed Josie's eyes until she noticed upon whom they rested. Diana, who had just then lifted her head toward Josie, contorted her face into a similar expression of dismay. Anne, David, and Fred could barely contain their snickers. Josie and Diana were wearing the exact same dress, down the material and pattern and everything!  
  
Anne quickly grabbed Diana, who looked as if she was about to faint, by the arm and dragged her inside the Hall. "Oh, this is the most embarrassing thing ever! I cannot be seen like this! I have to go home and change!" Diana moaned.  
  
"Into what?" Anne asked tactfully. Diana's dress size had, er, changed a bit since she'd given birth to little Fred, so she didn't really have another proper dress to wear. "Anyway, Diana," Anne continued, "I thought that pattern you used for your dress was, um, exclusive. New to Avonlea, at least. Where did you get it?"  
  
"From Aunt Atossa's Charlottetown cousin!" Diana moaned again, but this time a little more resignedly.  
  
"Aunt Atossa! The one who died last year, whose mother was a Pye?" Anne asked.  
  
Diana just nodded miserably. "I guess I should have remembered she had Pye relatives."  
  
Anne turned abruptly to hide a laugh. Oh, this was too funny. But she really shouldn't laugh, *she* would be horrified if that happened to her. She put her arm around Diana. "Don't worry, you look ten times better in it than she does. And at least you weren't bragging all week about your *Charlottetown dress* like her," she told her friend comfortingly.  
  
"She *does* look kind of like a little pig in pink," Diana agreed with one last sniffle.  
  
************************************************************************  
  
"I can't believe she stole my dress pattern!" Josie fumed to Gilbert. Though he made a show of nodding concernedly, Gilbert truly didn't care at all. In fact, he was thoroughly amused. He had always thought that girls put too much thought to their appearance. Now it was catching up with them.  
  
Josie suddenly tugged on his arm. "Right, Gilbert?" she asked.   
  
"Huh?" Goodness, did he really have to pay attention to her *all* evening?  
  
"At least she and Fred don't fashionably match, like we do, right Gilbert?"  
  
"Oh, right," he responded with an inward groan. Josie had dropped by his house last night to give him a tie to wear to the banquet. In the dark, it had looked a nice maroony color, so he'd agreed to wear it. He should have paid attention to the fact that she wanted him to wear it because it *matched*, though, because closer inspection, in proper lighting, revealed the tie to be a brilliant shade of pink.  
  
He looked up to see David Owen grinning amusedly. Gilbert glared back at him. Of course, David had every right to laugh at him, as he had come with Anne, while Gilbert was stuck with Josie Pye.  
  
"Oh, there's Julia!" Josie suddenly shrieked. "I'll be right back, Gilbert, okay?"   
  
"Take your time," Gilbert muttered under his breath.  
  
"Less than pleased with the lady?" David asked sarcastically, walking up beside him. Then, glancing at Gilbert's neck and snorting, "Nice tie."  
  
"Oh, shut up." Gilbert's mood was rapidly declining.  
  
"Have you seen Anne yet? You know, the one *not* wearing a pink dress?" David asked.  
  
"No, and it's no great loss to me, anyway," Gilbert responded. Both Josie and David had screened him from even a glimpse of Anne when his carriage had pulled up.  
  
"Well, your prayers are answered," David said, as Anne and Diana came out of the hall, strewing fresh flowers along the walkway.  
  
Gilbert just gazed at her, unable to come up with a snappy retort. Wow. She looked, well, stunning-radiant, even, in her pale yellow dress. Ugh, why did she have to be so beautiful?  
  
Disclaimer: Okay, let's see. L. M. Montgomery owns Anne, Gilbert, Diana, Fred, little Fred, Josie [though I don't know who would want her, anyway], Marilla, Mrs. Lynde, Davy, Dora, Miss Lavender, Stephan Irving, Paul, Aunt Atossa, Julia Bell, Jane Inglis nee Andrews, Mr. Inglis [what's his name, anyway?], Christine Stuart, Roy Gardiner, Stella Maynard, Phillipa Gordon, Avonlea, White Sands, the blue hall, Green Gables, Orchard Slope, Echo Lodge, Hester Gray's garden, Mr. Lawson's store, ummm...what else have I mentioned in my story so far? Oh well. I own David, George [Josie's cousin that was mentioned once], Aunt Atossa's Charlottetown cousin, Gilbert's pink tie, and all the plot [including "my second greatest mistake" by the way]. No infringement is intended. Now please review!  



	13. Part 13

XIII  
  
Disclaimer: L.M. Montgomery's the genius, I'm not. Duh. Enough said. All I own are the plot complications, David Owen, and Mr. Inglis' first name (I think).  
  
Soon both the inside and outside of the hall began to fill with people. Mostly people who Anne recognized, who smiled at her a little pityingly as if to say, "Oh, still single. Too bad." Anne went over the afternoon's itinerary one last time in her mind. Jane and Mr. Inglis (Anne couldn't help but call him that, he just didn't seem like a first name kind of person) were to arrive in-Anne glanced at the passing Oliver Kimball's watch and panicked-five minutes! Then, of course, the couple had to make the rounds and greet everyone. Half an hour had been allotted for that-Anne mechanically changed it to an hour in her mind, meaning the refreshments probably wouldn't be served until 3:30. Oh, well, at least it hadn't fallen upon her to organize it all, she thought, glancing at an extremely frantic Carrie Sloane (soon-to-be Kimball) sympathetically.   
  
She stared idly around the hall, thinking that the inside, at least, managed some semblance of respectability (not being blue). A pair of eyes that certainly were blue-and goggly-suddenly met her gaze. Oh no! Anne quickly ducked and tried to get herself lost in the crowd. If there was one thing she couldn't bear right now, it being on the receiving end of a lecture from Charlie, going on about how she would soon "find someone" and literally dripping with Sloanishness. The girl to whom he was betrothed had a nose that stuck out even farther than his eyes. But there, that was uncharitable. Goodness, what was wrong with her?  
  
A quick glance to the other side of the hall immediately gave her the answer to that question. There sat Gilbert Blythe, talking congenially with Diana and Fred. Catching Anne's eye, Diana motioned for her to come over. Anne glared at her and mouthed, "NO." Diana rolled her eyes. Why did Anne have to make this so difficult?  
  
"So Gil," Diana began, turning to him, "Miss Lavender tells me that you and Anne visited her last week."  
  
Gilbert froze. "Yes…" he said slowly. "Why?"  
  
"Why what?"  
  
"Why'd you say that?"  
  
Diana raised her eyebrows. "Just making conversation, I guess. Why? Did something important happen there?" She made a show of innocence, but a slight smile played at here lips.  
  
This being met with an emphatic "No," Diana rolled her eyes again. Gilbert was as stubborn as Anne. "I give up, for now at least," she thought, as Gilbert turned to converse with Fred, who was looking at his wife strangely.  
  
**********  
  
Anne walked outside of the hall, where everyone was beginning to gather to catch the first glimpse of the millionaire couple. Lost in her thoughts, she abruptly bumped into Josie Pye, who was just then sharing smothered giggles with her cousin Gertie and Julia Bell.  
  
"Anne! How, er, *dignified* of you," Josie said, snickering.  
  
Gathering her wits, Anne drew closer to them and made a show of whispering confidentially, "Oh, I'm just a little out of it today. I can't get over David. Don't you girls think he looks so handsome?"  
  
Gertie and Julia murmured their agreement, but Josie narrowed her eyes, taken aback. She had been sure Anne was angry with her for stealing Gilbert, that her insults to him at the Blythe gate had only been a show, but… Maybe Anne didn't care after all. And David *was* so much more handsome than Gilbert, especially with his deep brown eyes and thick black hair. She disliked Gilbert's hazel ones-they always seemed to be secretly laughing at something, [A/N-Probably her!] which was kind of unsettling. Ugh, she hated Anne Shirley! Why did she always come out on top?  
  
Anne, who was feeling far from the top just then, quickly noticed Josie's uncertainty and preyed upon it.  
  
"So are you having fun with Gilbert, Josie?" she asked, smiling sweetly. "He seems to finally be getting over his fever delusions. Oh, and I *do* love your pink dress. It's so, I don't know, *one-of-a-kind*."  
  
Josie glared at her and bit her lip in anger. Certainly something would have transpired if not for the fact that just then a call of "They're here, they're here!" was heard.  
  
**********  
  
Congenialities being exchanged, everyone filed to the back of the hall to sit down to refreshments.  
  
Anne sat down in the chair David pulled out for her and glared at him. She knew it wasn't just a coincidence he had offered her the seat right next to Gilbert.   
  
"I don't know, it's kind of drafty in this spot, David," she said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in her voice. "Won't you switch with me?"   
  
He just smiled at her and sat down on her other side. "I don't feel a draft, darling," he responded, echoing her sarcasm.  
  
"I do," Gilbert chimed in. "Surely you're being ungentlemanly by not switching with her, Dave." He wasn't completely happy with David right then, not exactly keen on the admiring way he had looked at Anne earlier.  
  
Everyone else at the table, including Jane and Mr. Inglis (as it was the *first* table), watched this exchange perplexedly. Seeing their confusion, David spoke up, "Oh, don't mind Gilbert and Anne, everyone, I think they may have had a little too much punch."  
  
Anne kicked him under the table. "Good excuse, David, since there *hasn't* been any punch served yet," she whispered.  
  
"I know," he countered. Anne frowned at him.  
  
Diana bit her lip to prevent from laughing. "So Jane," she said, attempting to distract the rest from the bickering trio, "tell me more about Europe. I just can't hear enough."  
  
"I can," Gilbert muttered quietly. Anne, the only one who heard, caught his eye and tried to contain her laughter as Jane began her description of Vienna. She looked from one side of her to the other. David was certainly handsome, but he didn't hold a candle to Gilbert, especially tonight. Gilbert looked especially dashing in his black suit, though his odd tie kind of subtracted from the whole effect. Anne bent closer to see what color it was. Gilbert, upon perceiving this, crimsoned. Josie, however, spoke right up.  
  
"Oh, so you noticed his tie, Anne? See how it matches? I bought it especially for that purpose."  
  
"Did you?" Anne responded in a rather shaky tone, not allowing herself to catch anyone's eye for fear she'd lose her straight face. This was *too* funny.  
  
"Yes, I'd heard that matching ties and dresses were all the rage in Paris," Josie said with a self-satisfied smile.  
  
"Why don't we ask Jane, since she was just *in* Paris," Diana interjected. At this Josie paled and began to lose some of her self-satisfaction. "Jane?" Diana prompted.  
  
Jane, who had previously been hiding her face behind her napkin under the pretense of coughing, replied, "Um, actually, I really never did see that." Seeing Josie's hurt look, she hastily added, "But you know, I just might have missed it." She winked in the eye that faced Anne, David, Fred, and Diana, but the side toward Josie remained motionless.  
  
Afraid that conversation at her beloved *first* table had become too, well, heated, Carrie Sloane desperately introduced a new, safer, topic. "So, Anne, Charlie tells me you had a rich Kingsport man as your beau at Redmond. I want to hear all about him."  
  
It was David's turn to cough into his napkin. He couldn't have steered this conversation any better himself! He wished he could write it all down so he could remember and laugh later.  
  
Anne opened her mouth, then closed it, and then opened it again. "Well, Roy was very nice," she began, not allowing herself to look anywhere near Gilbert.  
  
Mr. Inglis looked surprised. "Roy-you don't mean Royal Gardiner?"  
  
"The one and the same," Gilbert answered sardonically.  
  
"You-you know him?" Anne asked, not quite believing this was happening.  
  
"Yes, yes. In fact, he was in Europe-he took the same ship home as us," Mr. Inglis replied.  
  
"Oh, the dark-haired one?" Jane suddenly remembered. "Oh, Anne, he was one of the handsomest men I've ever met-excluding present company, of course," she added, smiling at her husband. "And he seemed very depressed. You must have had quite an effect on him."  
  
"Well, Anne has an effect on everyone, doesn't she Gilbert?" David asked, smiling at his friend.  
  
Diana turned to look at David. What was he doing? Not having gone to Queen's like the others, she didn't know him that well. But he was acting, well, either horribly mean or diabolically clever, depending on which way you looked at it. She made up her mind to have a chat with him later.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Gilbert asked his friend tonelessly.  
  
"I don't know, I think maybe-OW!" he said suddenly.   
  
Anne, who had kicked him again, stood up and said, "Oh, I'm sorry, was that your foot? I didn't mean to step on it. I just thought it would be appropriate to propose a toast."  
  
"Hear, hear," Fred said hastily, beginning to become aware of the tension at the table and wanting to escape it.  
  
Carrie Sloane flushed, realizing this was something that she should have done a long time ago in her role as hostess.  
  
Anne hit her glass with her fork and addressed the entire hall. How had she gotten herself into this? Giving David that hard kick had been worth it, though. "I'd like to propose a toast. As you know, the Inglis' have briefly stopped in Avonlea after their honeymoon. We feel honored for them to grace us with their presence one last time"-no one except David and Gilbert noticed the ever-so-slight note of sarcasm in her tone; everyone else nodded their heads in solemn agreement-"as they embark on their, um, journey in life and to Winnipeg." David snickered almost imperceptibly. Anne continued, wanting again to kick him, "So I hope you will join me in wishing the best to Jane and-"   
  
Suddenly Anne stopped. Oh no, she couldn't remember-oh, this was horrible. Everyone had always called him Mr. Inglis out of respect for his wealth, but to call him "Mr." here would seem remarkably standoffish and much too formal. But she couldn't recall his first name! She was sure Jane must have said it at dinner some time, but wrack her brains though she might, she couldn't recollect it. What was she going to do?  
  
All of this went through Anne's head in rapid succession, encompassing barely a second. The rest of the hall was still gazing at her unaware anything was wrong. Except Gilbert. He'd seen Anne succeed, and he'd seen her falter-her involuntary glance at Mr. Inglis as she'd stopped suggested to him that there was, well, a problem. He thought briefly before he stood up himself. Sure, he was furious at Anne, but he still loved her. He didn't want to see her embarrassed in front of the entire town.  
  
"And, um," Anne was saying, beginning to blush. The room began to softly buzz. It was then that she noticed Gilbert was standing next to her. "Oh, right, that was my cue," he interrupted. Everyone turned to look at him, including Anne. "We prepared a joint toast and I forgot my cue. Why didn't you just kick *me*, Anne?" He slightly inflected the "me", which only David and Diana appreciated.  
  
Anne looked at him in utter shock. "I, um…"  
  
"Oh, that's all right. What are we waiting for?" he raised his glass. "To Jane and Geoffrey Inglis."  
  
Oh, Geoffrey, Anne thought. So that was it. Geoffrey Inglis. [A/N: I put this in because *I* couldn't remember his first name either. Does he have one? Or was he, uh, unnamed? If he does have a name, and you know it, please review and tell me.]  
  
"To Jane and Geoffrey Inglis," everyone repeated solemnly, then clinking their glasses.  
  
Anne looked at Gilbert for a moment, unsure what to say. "Some *joint toast*," David said sarcastically, patting her on the shoulder. "And my foot still hurts. Was it worth it?"  
  
She turned back to Gilbert, embarrassed. "Um, thanks," she said softly.  
  
Gilbert waited for a moment, then barely looked at her, also discomfited. "Yes, whatever," he replied, allowing Josie to lead him away from the table.  
  
Anne was disgusted with herself. Gilbert had just saved her from humiliation in front of all those people, and all she could say was, "Um, thanks"? She wished she could slap herself upside the head.  
  
David did just that. "Good going," he commented.   
  
**********  
  
The musicians had begun to set up, and the dance was to start presently. Diana finally spotted David alone, and approached him, saying, "You know, you were really obnoxious at dinner. It was almost like you were trying to, um, *bait* Anne and Gilbert."  
  
"Huh. That's strange," David said noncommittally.  
  
"If you have some kind of plot," she continued, "I simply *must* be a part of it."  
  
He grinned at her. "Well, it's not really an intricate scheme, it's more like 'helping destiny along.' But there is something you can help with," he said, then began to whisper in her ear.  
  
Diana clapped her hands after he'd finished. "Oh, that's perfect! And you're right, they won't unless we do that. When should I start?" she asked eagerly.  
  
"Well, since the dancing is about to start, now would be a good time. But wait, remember I have to find Gilbert too, so we can play our parts simultaneously. We have to time it *just* right," he replied.  
  
**********  
  
Diana found Anne toward the front of the hall, talking reluctantly with Moody Spurgeon MacPherson. He couldn't dance, of course, as a minister-in-training. Anne's eyes sought Diana's, pleading her for a rescue. "Good," Diana thought to herself, "she'll just think I'm saving her from Moody Spurgeon, with no ulterior motive."  
  
Diana grabbed Anne by the arm and dragged her away, calling out, "Women's affairs," over her shoulder to Moody Spurgeon by way of explanation.  
  
"Thank you," Anne said with a sigh of relief once they were a safe distance away. "I'm not even really sure what he was saying, some bit about tablecloths or something."  
  
"Tablecloths?" Diana asked dubiously.  
  
"I don't know, we were talking about the decorations, and he started saying something about some fancy tablecloth at some reception he attended, I don't know."  
  
"All right," Diana said, trying to remember her purpose. "Oh, yes."  
  
"What?" Anne asked curiously.  
  
Diana thought hard for a moment, the wheels turning in her brain. How was she going to get Anne's dance card away from her without Anne becoming suspicious? [A/N: I'm not quite sure how the dance card thing worked, so I'm kind of conforming it to suit my own purpose.]  
  
"May I see your dance card?" she finally asked lamely, not able to come up with anything better on the spur of the moment. She wished David had planned her part out more explicitly.  
  
"Oh, sure," Anne replied, handing it over without any qualms.   
  
"Wow, almost full," Diana commented, examining it. Except for the last dance-perfect…  
  
"Yes, I figured I'd just save the last one for David," Anne said carelessly.  
  
"But David's name is on it a couple times already," Diana remarked, steering Anne towards the punch table.  
  
Anne shrugged. "Oh good, punch. Isn't this Carrie's special recipe?" she asked, helping herself to a cup. She didn't notice Diana subtly leave the dance card on the table right next to the punch bowl as they ambled away.  
  
**Meanwhile…  
  
"You know," David said to Gilbert, staring across the room to where Diana had just dragged Anne away from Moody Spurgeon, "I never realized Anne was so pretty."  
  
"Didn't you?" Gilbert responded coldly, but his eyes followed David's to where Anne was standing.  
  
"No. I mean, she really is gorgeous. Especially in that dress. Just look at her, won't you?"  
  
But Gilbert was already looking at her. She did look exquisitely lovely, the pale yellow accentuating the creaminess of her skin. He wished he could just go to her, just forget everything, and…  
  
David broke his reverie. "I think I might just put my name down for another dance," he said thoughtfully. "I already signed up for three, I think. Probably she doesn't have any open though. I'll worm my way in somehow." He steered Gilbert towards the punch table. Diana and Anne were just leaving. Perfect.  
  
Gilbert paled and raised his eyebrows. David was going to dance with Anne *four* times? Four times meant, well, it meant something serious. David had told him about a girl back in Toronto, but-he couldn't be in love with Anne, right? No, it was ridiculous. But wait, there was the way he'd flirted with her at dinner-yes, that had definitely been flirting. And if his memory served him well, Anne had flirted back. He looked at David calculatingly, jealousy of his friend for the first time rising in him. He didn't stop to think about how unreasonable those feelings were-the love burning within him made him injudicious.   
  
David widened his eyes innocently. "What?" he asked, trying not to smile. Oh, Gilbert was too predictable.   
  
"Oh, nothing," Gilbert responded.  
  
"Oooh, punch," David remarked, approaching the table. "Listen, Gil, will you get me some? I want to go find Anne before someone else does." He patted Gilbert on the back, and walked off without giving him a chance to answer.  
  
"Sure, I'll get you punch while you go pursue the girl that just a few hours ago you were insisting I was in love with, that's just *fine*," Gilbert muttered under his breath, ladling out the punch. Suddenly something next to the bowl caught his eye. He dropped the ladle and picked it up. It was Anne's dance card-she must have accidentally left it there! He fingered it for a moment, then examined it more closely. Yes, David was indeed down for three dances, some others for two. The only dance open was the last.  
  
Gilbert paused for a moment to think, then threw caution to the wind. He wasn't about to let David steal her away! He rashly signed his name to the bottom of the card.  
  
**Meanwhile…  
  
David, who had been watching Gilbert from afar, brushed by Diana and gave her a thumb's up sign. As if on cue, Anne abruptly noticed that something was absent.  
  
"Diana, did you ever give me back my dance card?"  
  
Diana contorted her face into an expression of surprise. "Of course. Do you not have it now?"  
  
Anne put her hand to her forehead. "I seem to have misplaced it, I'm kind of distracted. Maybe I left it at the punch table."  
  
Diana shrugged. "Maybe," she said, barely able to contain her giggles.  
  
Anne arrived at the table just as Gilbert was about to depart. Their eyes locked for a moment, then Gilbert's involuntarily drifted down to the card he held in his right hand. Anne followed his gaze. "Wait, that's-" she began.  
  
"Yours, I know. I-I found it here, I was just going to give it to you." He tried not to look at her, afraid her beauty would overwhelm him and he'd do something that later his pride would regret.  
  
"Oh, thanks. Um…" she looked down at the card, eyes glazed, not really seeing it.  
  
"What?" Gilbert asked, thinking she'd noticed his name.   
  
"Oh-nothing."  
  
Gilbert's heart fell. She'd spotted his name, and wasn't going to say anything to avoid hurting his feelings. Unwarranted anger emerged within him. "It's nice," he said cruelly, "to see how men are willing to take pity on all the *single* women here, don't you think?" An alarm went off in his mind. Had he really said that? No, no, he hadn't meant it. What *was* it that kept making him act so rashly? Well, maybe he could attempt to make it up later, when he--*gulp*--danced with her.   
  
Too late. The damage was done. Anne reeled back as if he had slapped her, then, narrowing her eyes, gave him a sarcastic smile, whirled around and flounced away.  
  
Only then did she notice the familiar black scrawl on the bottom of her card. Gilbert Blythe. She turned around very slowly and looked at him again, but saw only his back as he walked towards Josie, his first dance partner. The music had begun.  
  
She only had one question. Why? This night was so confusing.  
  
Just a few paces away, David and Diana gave each other satisfied smiles. They had accomplished the unthinkable-they had gotten Gilbert and Anne to dance together.  
  
Author's Note: Yes, please, if you have information on either dance cards or Mr. Inglis' first name that I do not, tell me. Oh, and even though I'm not anywhere near done with this story (ha, ha--you're stuck with me), I'm plotting out my next one. Has anyone read *The Story Girl* or *The Golden Road* (LMM of course)? I think I might do a continuation of those books. If you've read it, though, I have a question for you. Does anyone think it would be kind of cool to have a *romance* develop between Beverly (the narrator) and the Story Girl (Sara Stanley)? It seemed like they had some sort of chemistry when I read it (though obviously not romantic). I know that they're cousins and by today's standards, that's really sick, but not then... I mean, have you read Louisa May Alcott's *Eight Cousins* and *Rose in Bloom*? The only people Rose even *considered* marrying were her cousins, and that took place about the same time in history. Well, please give me feedback on that, I want to know what you think.  



	14. Part 14

XIV  
  
Pre-Author's Note: I could give you a summary of this chapter, but that would be telling... Anyway, so someone found a mistake in my story! Aaah! Good job, Emma (not you, fellow Portrait editor and sender of evil greeting cards)! You're right, they did repaint the stupid hall. ::pouts:: Oh well, I like it better blue.  
  
Disclaimer: L.M. Montgomery owns all the good stuff, I own the plot complications and the still blue hall (since in her books it's not still blue--ha, ha).   
  
The musicians commenced playing the music to the last dance, a slow, sweet ballad. Anne looked over her shoulder to see Gilbert approaching. She turned to face him with a glare, her feelings still smarting from the dance card barb he had flung at her earlier, however untrue it may have been. A deliberate, sarcastic smile spread across his face upon noting her inner rage. "Shall I have this dance?" he asked mockingly. Anne acquiesced, glowering, as he took one of her hands and wrapped his other arm around her back.   
  
Anne almost swooned under Gilbert's touch, but then took a deep breath and tried not to notice the powerful feelings of passion that mere contact with him seemed to stimulate in her. Gilbert, too, had to close his eyes a moment as she extended *her* other arm across his back, making him shudder with thrills. Their bodies, however, stayed as far apart as possible as they began to awkwardly twirl around the floor with the other couples.  
  
Anne broke the silence. She glanced at his neck, raising her eyebrows, and said sardonically, "I *do* love your pink bow tie, Gilbert. Why, it exactly matches your fence? Is it your new color?" He scowled at her. The pink fence was a rather sore point with him (not to say anything about the tie); he had given it any number of coats of paint, and yet the red still showed through.   
  
"Actually," he began, "I wore this tie to match Josie's especially lovely and fashionable pink dress. Then, seeing her skeptical look, he added cuttingly, "Perhaps you're just jealous, because I'm wearing a color that *you* can never wear."  
  
Inside, Anne was fuming, but she tried to maintain a calm exterior. Perceiving that other people were starting to eavesdrop, she dropped her tone and inched closer to Gilbert. "Did you see Josie's *fashionable* new hat at church yesterday, Gilbert? It looked as if a bird had laid her eggs, and left her nest, along with all her feathers, on it."  
  
Gilbert almost snickered. In fact, he had spotted Josie's hat at church, and Anne's bird comparison was particularly fitting. But he couldn't let Anne know that. Instead, he examined her dress. She looked radiant in it, like a beam of sunlight, especially with her shining eyes and creamy complexion. That, however, would in no way serve as a proper insult. "I really don't think yellow's your color, Anne," he finally said. "It tends to make the color orange, look, I don't know, *oranger*."   
  
"Is that even a word?" she asked with a semblance of scorn. But her cheeks reddened, and she bit her lip in fury. "You know, I really wish I had a slate right now, to crack over your head."  
  
"You'd probably have to go sit in the corner again," Gilbert jeered quietly, drawing still closer to her. Anne pale caused his heart to flutter enough; Anne with rosy cheeks was almost too much for him to resist.  
  
Anne brushed this off with disdain. "It would be worth it, the same way it was then."  
  
"Would it, Carrots?"  
  
Anne gave an exasperated sigh, and looked down. She abruptly realized that with each affront, she and Gilbert had been gradually moving toward each other, and now their bodies were almost pressed together. Her heart began to beat rapidly.  
  
She let go of his hand for a moment, plucked one of the flowers out of her hair, and gave it to him, a dangerously charming smile upon her face. "Here, Gilbert, you can keep this, it's nice and fresh and new. It can replace the other one I heard you kept so long."  
  
Gilbert gazed into her eyes searchingly. How on earth could she know about that? Oh, confound David; he was going to kill him. He took the flower from Anne with his free hand, dropped it, and deliberately stepped on it, subsequently taking Anne's hand and twirling her as if nothing had happened.  
  
Anne gave a mock sob. "Oh, I'm so crushed!" she exclaimed, feigning dejection. She no longer cared about what she said to him. All that occurred previously, included at the church, must have been some sort of accident or something. Clearly Gilbert Blythe didn't love her-probably never had, either. Well, at least she would leave with her pride (partly) intact.  
  
Giving her a fierce look, Gilbert drew Anne still closer to him. "You know, I wish I had left you to drown that day on Barry's Pond," he hissed. A week that had started out rather promising, what with the strangely affecting song at church, had rapidly declined. He held out no more hope that Anne could have any feelings for him. Stephan Irving had been way off. She didn't even seem distressed by all his insults.  
  
Anne bit her lip again and fought back tears. How had this become so awful? She and Gilbert had at least used to be friends. Now he was indifferent to all that she said to him. "I wish you *had* left me in the Lake of Shining Waters, then at least I wouldn't be stuck here dancing with you," she shot back, rallying. But a single tear began to roll down her cheek. She couldn't exactly let go of Gilbert and wipe it away, so she just hoped he wouldn't notice.  
  
A glint of light caught something glistening on Anne's cheek; Gilbert quickly detected it and almost couldn't contain his astonishment. Was-was that a tear?   
  
He fixed his eyes upon hers. He released her hand again, but this time brought his own to her cheek, brushing the tear away with his fingers in a sudden show of tenderness. Anne trembled as his touch incited pleasant sensations throughout her body. His fingers lingered on her face even after the disappearance of the tear, softly stroking her cheek. Yet again she was made aware of their proximity, the rapid pounding of her heart, and the quickness of her breath. The level of tension between them was the highest yet. She could feel his heart beating in his chest, he was pressed so closely against her.  
  
Gilbert gazed into her eyes, which seemed in a state of transition from green to grey, and lacked, perhaps for the first time in years, the veil which had always hidden her true feelings. He tilted his face closer to hers and caressed her cheek one last time before leaning in to kiss her. All the repressed feelings of desire seemed to implode within him. He had been waiting for this moment for…well, much too long.  
  
Anne closed her eyes as their lips met. It was as if fireworks were bursting inside her. The kiss lasted an eternity, yet ended all too soon.  
  
The realization suddenly dawned upon them that the music had ceased. They drew slightly apart, eyes still glued on each other's, trapped in the moment. Neither spoke.  
  
Post Author's Note: ::gasps:: A cliffhanger! (kind of) Oh no! Well, this is my first one, so don't get too angry. :) I think I confused some people with my mention of both "The Story Girl" and Louisa May Alcott's "Rose in Bloom" in my last Author's Note. Sorry. I'm not going to write a Louisa May Alcott fic (actually, that would be kind of cool--no ::hits self on head:: stick to one purpose at a time, Laurie!) But what I wanted to know (and what some of you responded to, thanks!) was what your opinion would be if I wrote a story about a romance between Beverly and Sara Stanley (not Ray!) from L.M. Montgomery's "The Story Girl"? (Even though they're cousins.) If you haven't read "The Story Girl", do, I urge you, because it's excellent. You might recognize a few of the characters from the show "Avonlea" that was on CBC and the Disney channel awhile ago (although "The Story Girl" isn't set in Avonlea). By the way (and this is almost completely unrelated, but oh well), are any stations showing reruns of "Avonlea"? That was one of my favorite TV shows a couple years ago. Please review and tell me what you think!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	15. Part 15

XV  
  
  
Disclaimer: L.M. Montgomery owns it all (lucky her) except my oh-so-complicated plot complications (lucky me--ha).  
  
***The next day…  
  
Gilbert grabbed the paint and brush, figuring he'd have another go at his rose-tinted fence. After a surprisingly restful sleep, considering how much he had to go over in his mind, he'd roused himself that morning feeling refreshed. Or perhaps, he thought, it wasn't the slumber that invigorated him-maybe it was something else. Possibly the fact that for the first time in three years, (except for that single day after Miss Lavender's dinner), he had awakened with an optimistic, idealistic feeling of anticipation in his heart. Yes, conceivably, that could be it. He smiled to himself slightly as he began to examine the previous night's events in his mind, grasping at them almost reluctantly as if afraid that assessment would cause the memories, and thus the realities, to evaporate. He dipped the brush into the paint.  
  
Swish. One brush stroke. He and Anne had pulled apart after the realization that the music had stopped. She had gazed into his eyes for a moment-how he loved those eyes, those ever-changing orbs that could transform from stormy to tranquil in a split second.   
  
Swash. The second stroke. There had been so many things he'd wanted to say, but the huge lump in his throat and the dryness of his tongue prevented him from articulating any of them. Anne had looked as if she'd been similarly rendered speechless.  
  
Swoosh. Another stroke. The moment had shattered as Mrs. Harmon Andrews, Jane's hopelessly tactless mother, chose that instant to inform Anne of Davy's latest escapade (he had dyed the curly end of her prize pig's tail a vibrant blue). As if Anne had needed to know that exact second! She certainly couldn't do anything about it. Gilbert had given Mrs. Harmon a murderous glare and resolved then and there that if he ever came across her stupid hog he'd do more than dye its tail.   
  
Sploosh. He dipped the brush back in the paint. Anne had diplomatically attempted to apologize to Mrs. Harmon, grey eyes dancing while imploring Gilbert not to keep looking at her, for fear she'd burst out laughing. He could tell from her comically solemn expression that Davy would get not just one, but two extra spoonfuls of plum jam on his slice of bread that night.  
  
Splat. He flung a huge glob of paint at the fence, seeing as how he wasn't making much headway with thin brush strokes. He had intended to wait while Anne, er, smoothed over the situation, but a demand from Josie Pye to be taken home had thwarted that plan. Their eyes had locked one last time, just for a split second, but so much had been said in that one look. He'd never felt more connected to Anne than he did at that moment. He'd then left the hall and taken Josie home, telling her exactly what he thought of her and her stupid schemes in the carriage along the way.  
  
"Gil!" Ker-plunk. Startled at the sound of a voice, he dropped the brush into the paint, splattering droplets all over himself, the grass, and the person behind him.  
  
A hand clapped on his shoulder. It was David. "Thanks a lot," he said sarcastically, wiping a glob off his nose.  
  
Gilbert stood up and turned to face his friend. "Oh, it's you," he responded deprecatingly. "You're welcome."  
  
David raised his eyebrows and said significantly, "No, *you're* welcome."  
  
"I didn't thank you."  
  
"Well, you should have."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"I'm not blind, unlike you, Gilbert Blythe. I saw you and Anne dancing last night."  
  
Gilbert's cheeks reddened slightly. "Fighting is more like it."  
  
"No, *kissing* is more like it. Yes, I saw you. So what happened?"  
  
Gilbert let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Whoa, wait, back up. What do I have to thank you for?"  
  
David threw up his hands in exasperation. "Don't play dumb with me."  
  
"I'm not! If anything, I should be punching your lights out, the way you tried to steal her from me last night."  
  
David burst out laughing. "You are SO dense, Gil, so dense. You fell for the bait, hook, line, and sinker."  
  
"Bait?"  
  
"You were so jealous of me and Anne, weren't you? With my *four* dances and everything? Well-"  
  
Gilbert interrupted him. "Wait, you mean you and Anne had a plot?" he asked, the suspicion rising in his tone with every syllable.  
  
"Slow down there, jumpy. *Anne* and I didn't have a plot, but I'm not denying that *Diana* and I-"  
  
"Anne wasn't part of it?" Though he tried hard, Gilbert couldn't keep the relief out of his voice.  
  
"No, though if she had been, it would only mean that she wasn't as completely thick as you. But it was just me, at first; then Diana got in on it. Both of you-wow, I mean, it just went perfectly. That dance card thing was pretty elaborate, too-I can't believe it didn't get messed up."  
  
"Dance card thing?"  
  
"Goodness, Gilbert, you're bright, figure it out. Her dance card was just *lying* by the punch bowl…"  
  
"You put it there!" he declared in an accusatory tone.  
  
"No, Diana put it there. I had enough work to do, making you jealous. 'Oh, Anne's so pretty, I think I really might like her.'" David gave a mock impression of himself, capped by peals of laughter.   
  
Gilbert just stared at his friend in silence. He'd never been so confused in his entire life.  
  
David patted him on the back again. "Gil, Gil, Gil. Don't you see? You and Anne were almost at the point of no return. And you're both so stupidly stubborn; how else could we have gotten you two even within close proximity of each other? I mean, the fact that you both *wanted* to dance together so much (but of course pride got in the way) certainly aided the cause. You were just begging for intervention." Then, noting Gilbert's silence, he prompted, "And it looked like you had a good rip-roaring argument anyway."  
  
Gilbert laughed a little. "Yes, well, I'd insulted her earlier, then she slighted me, and it went on from there."  
  
"A little romantic tension?" David interjected.  
  
Ignoring him, Gilbert went on. "I didn't think that she even cared about what I was saying until I saw-until she-," his voice trailed off.  
  
"Started crying?" David pressed.  
  
"No, she didn't cry, really, just one tear-I must have, I *did*, hurt her. Oh, and I never apologized! I didn't get a chance! I left," Gilbert put his hand to his forehead and began to deplore himself. What if-what if things still weren't right between them?  
  
"I'd say you apologized quite nicely," David said with a satisfied smile.  
  
Gilbert glared at him. "Did a lot of people see?"  
  
"No, no-especially not Mrs. Harmon. Diana and I could've strangled her, she ruined our fairy tale ending."   
  
"*You* could have strangled her? What about me? I was about ready to execute her on the spot! She had the whole blasted banquet to say something to Anne about Davy and chose that moment! I'm beginning to think the gods have it in for me," Gilbert concluded with a rueful smile.  
  
"Have it in for you? No, if anything, the gods are smiling on you, Gil. Anne looked at you like you were a knight in shining armor during that toast-"  
  
"Which she made because she wanted to kick *you*," Gilbert interrupted.  
  
"No, which she made because she wanted to kick *me* for attempting to embarrass the two of *you*," David corrected. "Big difference."  
  
"So you set me up, huh, Dave," Gilbert stated in a strangely toneless voice, dipping the brush into the paint again.  
  
David looked at his friend with misgiving. "Yes," he answered warily, "but I thought you needed-"  
  
Interrupting his sentence, Gilbert flicked the brush at him, splattering still more paint.   
  
"Oh, this is war!" David cried, grabbing a spare brush.  
  
Neither of them noticed the strange carriage that rumbled by at that moment, turning down the lane toward Green Gables.  
  
Post-Author's Note: Oooh, mysterious... Actually, not really. I bet a bunch of you will guess what's going to happen next. I'll try to post the part 16 soon, since I have Winter Break (yay!). *And* I won't be spending odd hours at the school anymore (I know, the *school* during winter break--ugh) because we kind of gave up on our yearbook deadline. Sigh. *But* I got the third Philip Pullman book from the "His Dark Materials" triology for Christmas--now I have to reread them all! Hopefully that won't take away from my writing time. Well, please review.  



	16. Part 16

XVI  
  
Disclaimer: You know the drill. L.M. Montgomery owns all characters and settings besides David. And the still-blue hall. And Gilbert's pink fence. Those are the things I own. Unfortunately, I couldn't write a very good story with *just* those, so...I have to borrow some of L.M. Montgomery's stuff.  
  
Amid the clanging of dishes in the Green Gables kitchen that morning, a moan was heard, followed by an exasperated sigh.  
  
"Anne? Anne, are you down here?" The clattering sound of footsteps descending the stairs gave Marilla the only reply she needed.  
  
"Anne, I *told* you that three spoonfuls of plum preserves would give Davy a stomachache! Whatever possessed you to allow him to have so much?"  
  
"Huh?" Anne entered the kitchen, pressing and pulling on her earlobes, red hair still dripping. "Sorry, Marilla, but I think some water got stuck in my ears when I washed my hair. What did you say again?"  
  
Another moan from Davy that entered into the range of even her impeded hearing revealed the answer. "Oh, right, the plum jam," Anne recalled, furiously massaging her cheekbones in a futile attempt to unplug her ears. "I'm sorry, but I thought he deserved a reward."  
  
"A reward? Whatever for?" Marilla asked, looking blankly at Anne.  
  
"The only thing the boy does well enough to deserve a reward is make mischief," came Mrs. Lynde's emphatic voice above the clamor of the dishes.  
  
Anne, who probably could have heard *Mrs. Lynde* talking even if she'd stuffed her ears with cotton, waited until Marilla had sent Davy off to bed, then replied, "Well, it seems that yesterday, Davy dyed Mrs. Harmon Andrews'" -she spat out the name with some distaste-"prize pig's tail blue. I'm sorry, Marilla, but I really can't take her. 'Oh, Jane's trousseau has this; Jane's new house has that! What, not married yet, Anne? It doesn't do to be too picky, you know.'"  
  
Marilla hid a smile at Anne's particularly adept imitation.  
  
Anne went on. "She bragged about Jane all through the wedding earlier this summer, all through the banquet yesterday, and, to top that all off, she interrupted me and Gi-" Anne stopped abruptly.  
  
Mrs. Lynde set down the last plate she'd been wiping. "Interrupted you and…" she prompted curiously.  
  
The color rose in Anne's cheeks. "Um, she just, uh, really annoyed me, so I wasn't exactly, you know, *disappointed* in Davy when she told me." Anne grabbed the dishes and began to put them away.  
  
Marilla shot Anne a calculating glance. Then, seeing that Anne had just picked up an ugly old green and yellow bowl of Mrs. Lynde's that Marilla disliked especially, she asked, "So, Anne, was Gilbert Blythe at the banquet?"  
  
Sure enough, the bowl suddenly slipped out of Anne's hands and clattered to the floor, where, much to Marilla's chagrin, it arrived unscathed.  
  
"Oh no! I'm sorry!" Anne cried, bending down to pick up the bowl, which Mrs. Lynde snatched from her hastily. Then, taking refuge in the clogged ears though she had heard Marilla perfectly, Anne gestured toward her ears and said, "I couldn't hear you, Marilla. What'd you say?"  
  
Marilla just shook her head and smiled. "Nothing important."  
  
**********  
  
Anne walked out the side door, still banging her fist against the sides of her head. She hadn't made much headway, but by the time Marilla and Mrs. Lynde had finished putting away the dishes (Mrs. Lynde hadn't allowed her to touch any others, saying she had "buttery fingers"), Anne was at least able to discern what people were saying, thought everyone's voice still seemed to possess a strange toneless quality. She hummed to herself while walking down to sit by Violet Vale, which was perhaps why she didn't hear the carriage rumble up the lane.  
  
**********  
  
Anne spread herself out among the violets, propping her head against the base of a birch tree. She hadn't really had time to process all the new, er, *information* through her brain since the end of the banquet. Abandoning all attempts to unplug her ears, Anne brought her fingers to her lips, still almost able to feel the warmth of Gilbert's kiss upon them. It all had happened so suddenly-one minute they had been bickering, and the next, well…  
  
But perhaps it hadn't been so sudden, after all. What had David and Diana called their stupid (yet remarkably effective, Anne had to admit) little plan? Oh yes, "aiding *destiny*". Destiny. The word presented itself in before her mind's eye, big and imposing, complete with the capital D. "Difficulty begins with D, too," she thought with a laugh. "So does dense, and denial, disaster…"  
  
"And desire," another little voice in the back of her mind added wickedly. She blushed inwardly and waved the thought out of her head.  
  
A lot had happened between her and Gilbert since his illness. They had met, and then fought, then fought again; now…where were they now? Right back where they started? No, he had kissed her. That was something. Additionally, he had saved her from humiliation in front of half the town. Maybe it was her turn to make the momentous move.No, not maybe--it definitely was. Hopefully Gilbert didn't think she meant all of those awful things she'd said to him; well, she could clear that up, at least.  
  
Head spinning, Anne stood up. "Perhaps I'll go to find Gilbert, then maybe I'll be less confused," she thought, all the events of the past two weeks reeling around in her mind and making her dizzy.  
  
But that was not *destined* to happen.  
  
A pair of hands suddenly covered Anne's eyes, and a toneless (to her ears, at least) male voice announced, "Guess who!"  
  
Anne initially recoiled from the touch, but then forced herself to relax, considering her "guess" of "who" it must have been.  
  
Eyes still shielded, Anne said rapidly, "Wait. Before you say anything, I just want to apologize. I didn't mean any of those things I said."  
  
Slightly taken aback, the figure covering Anne's eyes started. "What?"  
  
"Yes, I take them all back," Anne continued, feigning nonchalance. "I was worked up-a little out of my head, I guess."  
  
"Really?" The figure's eyes lit up.  
  
"Yes. And listen, I-I just wanted to, um, say-"   
  
"Yes?" the figure, whose hands were still over her eyes, prompted eagerly.  
  
"Um, I'm sorry," Anne finished lamely. Ugh, she couldn't come up with anything better than that?  
  
"Anne, I-I wasn't quite expecting this, but of course I'm extremely pleased-you don't know how much so. I guess all that remains to be said, or, rather, asked, is a question I posed awhile ago…"  
  
Anne gasped inwardly. She knew what was coming next-she just hadn't anticipated it quite this soon. She swallowed, attempting to dismantle the huge lump in her throat. Her ears finally popped, liquidating the water that had been blocking them.  
  
"So, Anne, you *will* marry me this time?" the figure asked, his tone a mixture of eagerness and apprehension.  
  
Now it was Anne who flinched. That-that wasn't Gilbert's voice! And, come to think of it, she hadn't felt that familiar prick on her neck that she always experienced when Gilbert approached. Or the delightful burning sensations on her face when he touched her.  
  
She threw the hands off her face and whirled around. "Roy!" she exclaimed, flabbergasted.   
  
Post-Author's Note: I know, I know...cliffhanger. And I bet you all (especially those of you who thought that Gilbert was *finally* proposing) want to come here and execute me on the spot. Sorry. The idea was just too good not to use. But when (if?--ha, ha) Gilbert does propose, I hope it will be better than that! Props go to Skyflyer and California Love, the only people (that reviewed) who correctly guessed the inhabitant of the mysterious carriage! Good job! 


	17. Part 17

XVII  
  
Pre-Author's Note: Humph. So don't expect quite as fast an output now. I'm back in school and finals are coming up. ::looks around in fright:: I even have ::gulps:: two finals on my birthday! I know, what a travesty! I'll probably be studying during the very moment I turn 17. An outrage! I should be going to an 'R' rated movie or driving after midnight or doing one of the other things I'll then be allowed to do, but noooo... I'll be *studying*. Sorry, a little bitter. Anyway, here's more story. I think I'm becoming predictable--several of you guessed what would happen in this part. Enjoy.  
  
**Half an hour earlier…  
  
Having concluded their paint fight, Gilbert and David attempted to clean themselves up at the pump. David glanced over to the still pinkish fence. "Didn't make much headway there, did you Gil?" he asked, hiding a snicker.  
  
Gilbert, too, laughed a little, his sense of humor returned to him. "Ah, it's inevitable. That fence was foreordained to be pink, and pink it will stay."  
  
"Almost like *destiny*, huh Gil?" David quipped, looking at his friend significantly. "Speaking of which," he continued, ignoring Gilbert's glares, "shouldn't you be going to see Anne right about now?"  
  
Gilbert silently leaned against the fence, his heart fluttering in excitement. He both eagerly awaited and dreaded seeing her. Perhaps last night was just an aberration in their relationship. But, upon recalling her shining eyes, he knew that not to be so.   
  
Noting the flicker of doubt on Gilbert's face, David spoke. "Come on, Gil, I know how much you love that arguing, romantic tension thing. But goodness, enough is enough."  
  
"What are you-" Gilbert began in anger.  
  
David went on, paying no heed to his friend's offended glare. "But if you're going to go see her, you certainly can't wear that. I mean, she might have put up with the pink tie last night, but *this*" he gestured towards Gilbert's paint-splattered clothes "is altogether too much."  
  
Gilbert finally just laughed at his persistent friend. "You know, I really do owe you one," he said, picking up the near-empty paint can and brushes.  
  
"I know. How about making me godfather of your children?" David responded, dodging an airborne brush. "Or, better yet, naming one of your children after me?"  
  
Gilbert dumped the remaining contents of the paint can on David's head and then darted inside. "It could be a boy *or* a girl!" David called after him. "David or Davidina!"  
  
**********  
  
Hands stuffed in the pockets of his newly changed pants, Gilbert nervously ambled down to Green Gables. Thinking deeply, he stared absently at the fresh wheel tracks imbedded in the lane, not really seeing them. This scenario wasn't really different than the one that occurred two weeks ago, except that, well, everything had changed. He no longer thought Anne engaged to Roy Gardiner. Too bad for you, Roy, he thought, inwardly smirking. He didn't know that five minutes later he would be looking back at the irony of that reflection.  
  
Not seeing Anne anywhere in the yard, Gilbert knocked on the Green Gables door. Marilla answered almost immediately. Upon recognizing him, she raised her eyebrows and bit her lip. It almost looked as if she were struggling not to laugh, though Gilbert had not a clue what possibly could be so funny. He wondered agitatedly if he had missed any splotches of pink paint. Presently Marilla spoke.   
  
"Gilbert Blythe," she said evenly, not trusting her normal tone of voice. "You've come to look for Anne?"  
  
"Yes, I-" he began.  
  
"Well, she's out down that path, by Violet Vale or whatever fool name she gave the little hill near Mr. Barry's field," Marilla interrupted, not looking him directly in the eyes.  
  
Then, her sense of humor getting the better of her, she added, "The minister and his wife are coming to tea, along with Fred and Diana Wright. Won't you join us?" She purposely left out the other invited person.  
  
"Thanks, I will," he said. Wondering how much Anne had told Marilla, he turned to give her one last queer look. But the door had been promptly shut. What he didn't know was that behind it Marilla was laughing so hard that she was panting for breath.  
  
"Oh, poor Anne!" she gasped. "First that Kingsport man, and now Gilbert. She's going to kill me, but I couldn't help it."  
  
Mrs. Lynde came in then, and stared at Marilla in amazed consternation while she doubled up with laughter. "Whatever happened, Marilla?" she asked inquisitively.  
  
"Rachel, we have to set two extra places for tea tonight," she managed to spit out between breaths.  
  
**********  
  
Gilbert was just about to turn out of the Green Gables yard when something caught his eye. The sun gleamed off an unfamiliar black carriage he'd been too blind with worry to see when he came up to the house. What was more, a strange-looking man sat in the driver's seat, clearly waiting. Noticing Gilbert's stare, he lifted his hat and said, "Good day, sir." Evidently this man was some sort of servant. Gilbert picked up his pace as he walked toward Violet Vale.   
  
Not even all these hints, however, prepared Gilbert for the shock he got when he saw someone else with Anne. Especially since that someone else was Roy Gardiner.   
  
Deciding not to make his presence known just yet, Gilbert hid himself behind a tree and shamelessly eavesdropped on their conversation. He shifted uncomfortably upon noting that Roy's hands were over her eyes and he was standing very close to her.  
  
Wait, what was Anne saying?  
  
"-I didn't mean any of those things I said."  
  
Roy looked almost as shocked as Gilbert was himself. "What?"  
  
"Yes, I take them all back," Anne continued. "I was worked up-a little out of my head, I guess."  
  
"Really?" Roy responded incredulously. Really? Gilbert thought to himself in disbelief. What was going on?   
  
"Yes. And listen, I-I just wanted to, um, say-" Anne began.  
  
"Yes?" Roy encouraged. Gilbert banged his head very softly against the tree. This was not happening, this was not happening, he repeated over and over to himself.  
  
"Um, I'm sorry," Anne finished.  
  
"Anne, I-I wasn't quite expecting this, but of course I'm extremely pleased-you don't know how much so. I guess all that remains to be said, or, rather, asked, is a question I posed awhile ago…" NO! NO! Oh, Gilbert had to stop this, he had to! But his horror kept him glued to the spot where he was standing.  
  
"So, Anne, you *will* marry me this time?" Roy asked. Gilbert kicked the tree as hard as he could, then had to stifle himself from crying out in pain. How could Anne do this to him? Last night--he had thought...  
  
Suddenly Anne threw Roy's hands off her face and whirled around. "Roy!" she exclaimed, astounded. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Taken aback, Gilbert stopped bemoaning his fate and looked on interestedly. Now *this* was an unexpected development.  
  
Roy looked down at her, stunned. "You didn't know it was me?"  
  
"No, I thought-I mean, I couldn't really hear you."  
  
"What? But you were responding to me in an, um, *intelligent* manner. You could hear me. What's going on, Anne?" Roy looked as baffled as Gilbert felt.  
  
"No, what I meant to say was that I *could* hear you, but not your tone of voice, because my ears got clogged when I washed my hair this morning." Anne covered her face in her hands. Oh, this was so horrible.  
  
But not to Gilbert. He could have danced a jig on the spot. So Anne hadn't known it was Roy. Had she thought it was *him*, then?  
  
"I see. So you could hear the words I was saying, but couldn't tell who was saying them." Roy drew his mouth into a suspicious line.  
  
"Yes, exactly." Anne replied, relieved. Perhaps he would understand, after all.  
  
"Well, who in heaven's name did you think I was, then?!" Roy demanded, throwing up his arms.  
  
Anne opened her mouth and then closed it again. Even from where Gilbert was standing, he could tell she was blushing profusely. "I, um, I-I don't know," she finally stammered, obviously flustered.  
  
Roy, too, noted the blush. "So you didn't mean any of what you were saying to me?" he asked dully.  
  
"No, I'm really sorry. And, pardon my asking, because this is very rude, but, really, Roy, why are you here?"  
  
"I-I *was* in Europe, trying to get over you, but nothing really seemed to console me. So I figured I'd come back and try again."  
  
"Listen, Roy, I'm really sorry that I hurt you, you know I didn't mean to," Anne said.  
  
"How *do* I know that?"  
  
"I-I'm not like that, Roy. I really thought I was in love with you, you must understand that. But I was a little foolish-I didn't know what love really was-and you don't either, I'm sure you'll find someone else-someone that's *meant* for you. But I apologize again, leading you on was one of the biggest mistakes I've ever made..."  
  
Gilbert suddenly stepped out of the shadows. "The biggest, or the second biggest?" he asked meaningfully.   
  
Anne gasped, then stared at him for a moment, gaping. Their eyes locked briefly, and she reddened even more deeply than before. Roy just blandly looked at him in surprise, then narrowed his eyes a bit. He followed Gilbert's gaze to Anne, then back to Gilbert. The intense connection between the two of them was almost visible.  
  
Gilbert waited until the significance of his words had taken the proper effect in Anne's mind, then said, half-apologetically, half-triumphantly, "I'm sorry, am I interrupting something? I just walked up, and heard voices..." He let his own voice trail off.  
  
"No, you're interrupting nothing, because I was just leaving," Roy responded listlessly, his eyes flickering again between Anne and Gilbert. Of course, how could he have been so stupid? The little things came back to him in a rush-the way her attention had drifted whenever Gilbert's name was mentioned; the odd looks of either triumph or despair on her face at dances; the disparaging glares Gilbert had always shot at *him*; the flowers at Convocation-the little things that had meant nothing at the time but now signified so much. It all added up. He'd just been too blind to see it.  
  
"Don't leave, at least stay to tea," Anne pleaded politely, ignoring Gilbert's glares.  
  
"No, really I should be getting back. Wilmer is waiting."  
  
Gilbert tried not to laugh. His servant's name was Wilmer? Of course.   
  
Roy walk back in the direction of the house through the trees, leaving Anne and Gilbert alone. She was utterly conscious of his eyes on her and feigned interest in her fingernails, examining them carefully.   
  
Gilbert took a few steps toward her. "Well that was odd," he finally said, in a voice that was not his own.   
  
Anne peered up at him and then chuckled softly, revealing a smile that, although not dimpled, was indeed very pretty. "What?" Gilbert demanded, noticing her amusement.  
  
She pointed to his hair. "You have a little, um, paint," she answered, snickering.  
  
Gilbert patted his hair in horror. "Where?" he asked, panicking.   
  
Anne shook her head at him. "No, no, you're not going to get it out by doing that."  
  
She grabbed him by the hand and led him over to Willowmere, the nearby pond ringed by willow trees. "How on earth did it get there, anyway?"  
  
"Oh, David and I had a little paint fight earlier this morning. I asked him if it was all out-he must have lied to me, the scoundrel."  
  
Gilbert dipped his fingers in the water and let them drip onto his hair. "Did I get it?"  
  
Anne rolled her eyes. "No. Just-just let me do it." She cupped some water in her palm and then brushed her damp fingers on the white spot. Goodness, his curls were so soft. She ran her fingers through his hair repeatedly, barely noticing when the paint disappeared.  
  
"Is it gone?" Gilbert silently cursed himself as soon as the words left his mouth, for now she would stop stroking his hair.  
  
"Oh-yes," Anne said, shaking herself out of her reverie.   
  
An awkward silence ensued. Gilbert was about to open his mouth when suddenly-"Anne! Come on, we need help getting ready! The minister and his wife are coming for tea!" Mrs. Lynde's shrill voice resounded through the trees.  
  
Anne gave Gilbert an annoyed smile. Any hope of escaping was then thwarted by Mrs. Lynde's actual presence, as she appeared off the path guiding Roy by the arm.  
  
Anne raised her eyebrows as Mrs. Lynde turned to Roy. "I can't believe you were thinking of leaving without tea," she was saying to him. Roy just shrugged impassively.  
  
Anne suddenly gasped with dismay. If anything could be *more* uncomfortable... Neither Gilbert nor Roy looked exactly thrilled, either.   
  
Seeing Anne wasn't going to say anything, Mrs. Lynde took charge of the situation, as she was wont to do. She turned to Gilbert. "Now, you boys can just sit in the parlor while we wait for the Wrights and the minister and his wife. Come on, Anne."  
  
There was no getting out of this. Anne looked helplessly at Gilbert. Misreading the glance, Mrs. Lynde then yelled, "OH, ANNE, ARE YOUR EARS STILL BLOCKED? CAN YOU NOT HEAR ME? WE'RE GOING TO HAVE TEA."  
  
"No, I'd say she can hear just *fine* now," Roy put in sarcastically. Anne flinched a little. Was this how the entire afternoon was going to be?  
  
Unable to do anything else, Anne followed Mrs. Lynde, Roy, and Gilbert back to Green Gables, lamenting her ill-fated lot.  
  
Post-Author's Note: Okay, now review, please please? Lotsa reviews might convince me to not study for my Spanish final and do this instead. Actually, I might do that anyway... 


	18. Part 18

Okay, I was so happy to get that many reviews for my last chapter that I decided to do something special for all the reviewers. I've read a lot of stories where the author does those personalized shout-out thingies and I've always felt really cool (I know that's sad) when my name got on it, so I decided to do that. But first, to clear some things up...I don't just have a Spanish final. I actually have three *other* finals. (I don't have finals in Chemistry and yearbook, yay!) But three of those (Math Analysis, Eng Lit, and AP U.S. history) I *must* study *a lot* for. The other one (Spanish) is where I might slack. I'll probably take time out of studying for Spanish to write this. :) In fact, I already did. And I'm sorry this took me so long to write, I just had the mother of all English Lit tests--I had to memorize the numbers of sonnets and such. Honestly, *why* do my teachers insist on giving me big tests right *before* finals? Arrggh!!!  
  
*Danielle: Yes, I stay up at night trying to come up with the twists ::grins:: I will study a little. In fact, I'll probably study a lot. I'm a pretty compulsive studier.   
*anne_gil_forever: Hmmm...maybe you should write your own story. It sounds intriguing, I would read it...but your idea pretty much goes against everything I have planned :)  
*Arwen: Yes, the second greatest mistake thing is one of the ideas I'm most proud of. Good job picking up its importance, it will probably make a showing again.  
*MeLLo: Thanks, I'm glad everyone is still interested in my long, dragged out story. I try to write fast, but homework calls...  
*Bill Gates Jr the 4th: You have an interesting name. Yes, being 17 is a trial. Actually I'm still not 17 yet, but almost...  
*Dani: Thanks, and sorry, but posting the next day was wishful thinking.  
*Beth: Yes, I like to draw things out. Can you tell?  
*Grace: I know, I know. I should stop concentrating on the frivilous things (like studying) and work on the important things (like this).  
*Gueck Thea: That *is* a one-in-a-million name. And yay, I'm glad you like it!  
*Dolores: Yay! Someone thinks I'm funny! And I *was* going to have Gilbert run away, but then I decided that would make it *too* long.  
*merky: Oooh, thanks, I'm honored (to be one of your favorites, I mean).  
*Skyflyer: Yeah, I dislike Roy, too, which is kind of unreasonable, cause it's not like he's a horrible guy or anything. He just not Gilbert (which is the whole point). And I had planned to bring Dorothy into this story but I forgot. Oh well.  
*aurelia darcy: My birthday is the 17th. My golden birthday, yay!  
*Emma: It's okay, I don't blame you for dropping chemistry and ditching me and leaving me all alone ::gives a mock sob:: And the study group went well. Hopefully the test went well too (or else our grades will plummet). I like David too, but I guess you can have him. Gilbert, however, is mine. Bwa ha ha ha!  
*Rachel: Yeah, Mrs. Lynde is alway delightfully consistent in her busybodyness (I don't think that's a word. Oh well).  
*Nora: Yeah, but it's getting the *right* tense that's the tricky part...  
*M: Thanks, I just *had* to bring Roy into it.  
*Chran Basil: I *like* to think that sometimes I'm funny...tell that to my friends, they often just look at me oddly.  
*Christine: Thank you, hopefully the upcoming ending will be even *better*.  
*Lala: Well, good luck on *your* final. I, unfortunately, am a ridiculously conscientious student who *has* to study.  
*Caitlyn: Yeah, Davidina...that's what I'm going to name *my* kid...*Right*.  
*Kayleigh: Yes, I'm pretty much L.M. Montgomery obsessed. There are a lot of people like that out there (I was surprised, too).  
*Solitaire: Plot complications are my specialty...  
*chickee: Yeah, I decided I'd been playing with Gilbert's mind enough...  
*Hezakiah Evans: Lily's Long-Lo: Yeah, sleep is good...but stories are better (unless you stayed up half the previous night studying for an English Lit test or something like that. No, that's *never* happened to me.) Yes, I do owe you props for reviewing every single one in that short of a time-span. Thanks.  
*NookNak: Thanks, and it was fun talking to you online.  
*lily: I know, all my plot complications keep you guessing, huh?  
*Lily23: Yeah, Anne's had it pretty rough, hasn't she? But hopefully the ends justify the means. And I guess my finals are really "semester finals" but everyone at my school calls them finals, so...  
*Habile_gal: I hope my style of writing fits, I've read the books enough times... And that author's note suggestion was a good one. I'll try to do that.  
*Kat: Thanks a lot, I'm glad you like it.   
*L: Let's see. I think it's *no estudias y escribes un otro parte*. Or something like that.  
*AngieJ: I tried. But writing just didn't happen last week. I was up until twelve every night last week trying to remember that "I wrote her name upon the strand" is a sonnet by Spenser and that while Beelzebub is Satan's assistant in Paradise Lost, he *is* Satan in Pilgrim's Progress. Grr...  
*Melete: Thanks, the kindred spirit quote ("Kindred spirits aren't so scarce as I used to think. It's splendid to find out there are so many of them in the world.") in Anne of Green Gables is one of my favorites.  
*Someone: I try. :)  
  
**********  
  
XVIII  
  
Gilbert stood uneasily in the Green Gables parlor after being ushered in, along with Roy, by a poker-faced Marilla. "So that's why she looked so amused earlier," he reflected, risking a glance at Roy, who was staring stonily out the window. He sat down on a high-backed, cushioned chair then abruptly stood up again, rubbing his bottom. Goodness, that cushion was as hard as a rock! He warily looked around the parlor and chose a soft-enough looking ottoman to sit on instead. Roy likewise sat, still in silence.  
  
Gilbert cleared his throat awkwardly. He'd come across Roy several times during the Redmond years at Patty's Place and had conversed with him pleasantly enough. Of course, he'd never taken a great liking to him-hated the fellow bitterly, in fact. But that had just been jealousy. Now that he knew he didn't have anything of which to be envious, he regarded Roy in a new light.  
  
Handsome, yes, the dark-haired, dreamy-eyed type all the girls fall for. And intelligent-he knew Anne could never abide anyone who wasn't. But, even though his envy had made him prejudiced, he'd always thought there was something missing in the man-or perhaps *nothing* missing. Maybe that was the point-he was too perfect.  
  
"You're lucky," Roy said presently, startling Gilbert by breaking the stillness.  
  
"Excuse me?" Gilbert responded, still lost in his reverie.  
  
"I should have known," Roy declared, shaking his head and ignoring Gilbert's question. "The flowers at Convocation-that *did* have deeper meaning than I thought."  
  
Gilbert's mind flashed back to the moment at Redmond when he'd seen Anne walking across the platform, his lilies in her hair. His heart had given a leap, and he'd attempted after the ceremony to push through the crowd to talk to her. He'd almost reached her when she'd gotten into a carriage with Roy. It had been then, seeing him gazing after the couple, that some busybody had informed him that their engagement was on the point of being announced.  
  
"You're lucky," Roy repeated, still not looking at Gilbert.  
  
"We're not, you know, *engaged* or anything," Gilbert said embarrassedly, giving voice to a thought that had taken over his subconscious but that he was afraid to think about directly for fear of jinxing it. Goodness knows that he and Anne had already experienced enough difficulties.  
  
"But you're not denying that you love her, are you," Roy stated. It was not a question. Gilbert looked at him again. He appeared sufficiently sad, yes, but not devastated. Before he'd thought that Roy, being rich and influential, could give Anne the life she deserved, but now he knew this not to be the case. He didn't really love her-was probably just infatuated.  
  
"Oooh, can I join the party?" Gilbert's thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of David, followed by Fred.  
  
"Look who the cat dragged in," Gilbert said sarcastically in response. "Oh, hi Fred," he added as further insult to David. "Is Diana here?"   
  
"She's upstairs with Anne, helping her change or something," Fred replied, looking curiously at Royal. "We met this fellow on the road," he gestured to David, "and he begged to come, we couldn't refuse."  
  
"Too bad." Then, seeing David's pointed stare at Royal, Gilbert proceeded to introduce them. "Oh, David, Fred, this is Royal Gardner. Anne, er, he was an acquaintance of Anne's at Redmond."  
  
Fred and David raised their eyebrows. The wheels were turning in David's diabolical brain.   
  
They obligingly shook hands, then David said, "So, Royal, what drew you to the Island at this time of year? I mean, I know the scenery's beautiful, we pride ourselves on it. Come to get your fill of nature? Or perhaps something else?"  
  
Gilbert rolled his eyes and grabbed David by the shoulder, in a show of friendliness but really with a very firm grip. "Of *course* that's why he's come, Dave," he said pointedly. Before he would have paid to see Roy Gardner suffer, but now he felt almost kindly toward him.  
  
**********  
  
"Goodness, where *is* the minister?" Mrs. Lynde threw up her hands in despair. "I've kept the potatoes hot for half an hour, but I'm afraid they will burn."  
  
"I've dispatched Davy to the manse to see what's going on," Marilla responded. "We simply can't keep all the guests waiting much longer."  
  
Presently Anne and Diana came down from the east gable. Marilla surveyed Anne's countenance amusedly.  
  
"A bit dressed up for a simple tea at home?" she asked, taking in Anne's carefully twisted hair and frilly green dress.   
  
Anne blushed. "Of course, it's out of respect for the manse," she said loftily, hiding a smile.  
  
"Oh, *of course*," Marilla replied sarcastically. "Listen, Gilbert and Fred and David Owen and that Kingsport man, Mr. Gardner, are all in the parlor."  
  
"I wonder what they're finding to talk about," Diana giggled, revealing her dimples. "We only need Billy Andrews, Charlie Sloane, and that other man, what's his name?"  
"Sam," Anne replied, barely able to contain her laughter.  
  
"Yes, Sam," Diana continued, "and then *all* the men who've proposed to you, Anne, would be in this house."  
  
"Wouldn't that be lovely?"  
  
"Wait, Anne, who is this 'Sam'?" Marilla asked curiously.  
  
Anne proceeded to describe Sam, his peppermints, and rather uncouth "proposal" to Marilla and Mrs. Lynde between fits of laughter.  
  
Presently Davy ran through the door, breathing heavily.  
  
"Well?" Marilla prompted. "Where are they?"  
  
"Goodness, Marilla, let a fellow catch his breath." Davy sat down at the kitchen table. "Mrs. Jedidiah Sloane is dying-"  
  
"Again?" Mrs. Lynde interrupted, exasperated.  
  
"Well, she thinks it's the real thing this time-"  
  
"That's what she said *last* time," Mrs. Lynde muttered.  
  
"So she insisted on having the minister come to pray over her. His wife expressed her regrets, saying that she'll invite you to tea sometime next week."  
  
"Well, I guess the only thing to do is serve tea to everyone who's here," Marilla said. "Davy, go get the men in the parlor. Anne, Dora, help me carry all the food to the table in the sitting room."  
  
Davy entered the parlor where David was earnestly telling Roy something about law in over-elaborate language that he was making up on the spot. Roy was nodding solemnly, lapping it all up, while Gilbert was attempting, almost futilely, to control his laughter.  
  
"Tea time!" Davy announced.  
  
Gilbert turned to the boy. "Oh, Davy, I heard about what you did to Mrs. Harmon Andrews' pig," he said, shaking his head in mock-solemnity.  
  
David caught on quickly. "Yes, and do you know what I heard?" he asked, contorting his face into a mournful expression.  
  
Davy shook his head, eyes wide. "What?"  
  
"The blue dye spread from the tail to the entire pig," David went on, winking at Gilbert and Fred over Davy's head. "I guess it just seeped through the pores in its skin or something."  
  
Roy had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at this nonsense.  
  
"And that's not all," Fred added. "When the pig saw its reflection in the trough, it squealed in fright-"  
  
"And fell down dead on the spot," Gilbert finished.  
  
Davy's mouth formed an O. "Wha-what?" he stammered. "I-I didn't want to kill the pig at all, just change the color of its tail to spite Mrs. Harmon Andrews."  
  
Anne, who'd paused in the doorway and heard the whole conversation while carrying the biscuits to the sitting room, couldn't stay silent any longer. "What tomfoolery are they trying to get you to believe now, Davy? Honestly, it '*seeped* through the pores'?"   
  
"Seems plausible enough to me," David shrugged, smiling.  
  
"Well, you're not the doctor-to-be. I bet you were inwardly cringing when he said that, weren't you, Gilbert?" Anne asked, laughing a little.   
  
Fred glanced down at Davy, who was blushing embarrassedly at being so fooled. "It's okay, Davy-boy, we were just teasing."  
  
"Yes, really we're in awe of you because it was such an honorable trick," Gilbert added.  
  
"Of course it was, look who he's named after," David declared. "At dinner, namesake, you'll have to tell me all about the joke."  
  
Davy brightened.  
  
Anne rolled her eyes. "And Davy, there *is* a way to tell when Gilbert is joking. Just look at his eyes, they're always twinkling, he can't hide it no matter how hard he tries." She gazed over at Gilbert, who noticeably flushed at her words.  
  
"Take it from someone who knows. Certainly Gilbert's (coughflirtedwithcough)-I mean, *teased* Anne enough over the years," David said, ignoring both of their glares.  
  
Glancing at Royal, Gilbert gripped his friend's shoulder again, trying to think of an innocent question to ask to change the subject. "So, Davy, why *did* you want to spite Mrs. Harmon Andrews anyway? I mean, besides the fact that she's an ugly old windbag?"  
  
Anne, smiling, tried to give him a reproving look, but failed miserably.   
  
"Well," Davy began brightly, addressing Gilbert, "I overheard her talking with Josie Pye's mom at the church social about how Anne had said she wouldn't marry you, and how you were just infatuated with her and would get over it, and how she didn't deserve you anyway, cause she was an orphan, and..." Seeing the look on Anne's face, he let his voice trail off.  
  
David's sides were shaking with silent laughter.  
  
"But that's not true, is it Gilbert?" Davy asked anxiously. "You're not just infatuated, are you?"  
  
Gilbert glanced involuntarily at Roy, whose features had become again immobile. He could *not* look at Anne.  
  
The room became silent except for Fred and David's occasional snickers.  
  
Luckily, Mrs. Lynde came in presently, bailing them out. "Tea's been ready five minutes, what *have* you all been discussing that was so absorbing?"  
  
"Oh, pigs and pores, Mrs. Lynde, pigs and pores," Anne responded flippantly, glad to be rid of the awkward situation.  
  
"And infatuation," David added. He pulled Davy off the to side as everyone filed into the sitting room. "Davy, lad, you're a man after my own heart. You really have a knack for posing the difficult question, don't you? I like that. Sit next to me at tea."  
  
Davy grinned.  
  
David bent down closer to the boy. "Now, there are several things we must do to make dinner as uncomfortable as possible. You've already given us a great lead-in, but I'll still need your help." He began to whisper in his ear.   
  
"Be ready to laugh a fit to kill," he concluded, tousling Davy's hair.  
  
**********  
  
Post-Author's Note: Okay, sorry, that was pretty fluffy, I'd intended the chapter to be meatier, but I don't have time to write the whole tea scene right now, so I figured I'd just split it up. Review please, as always! :)  
  



	19. Part 19

Pre-Author's Note: Sorry this took so long. I blame homework (as usual). And soccer conditioning. I'm not in shape at all. Sigh. Anyway, this isn't quite as good as I wanted, due to a rather annoying case of writer's block. This is the second to last part, and I kept thinking about what I wanted to happen in the last part, and... Oh, whatever. So this is it. Enjoy.  
  
XIX  
  
Gilbert raised his head from a respectfully bent position after the long-awaited conclusion to Mrs. Lynde's interminable grace. She and Marilla were seated at opposite ends of the table, lengthened so much by the addition of extra leaves that Marilla was almost situated under the doorframe to the kitchen. Dora sat to Gilbert's left, next to Mrs. Lynde; Diana and Fred were to his right. Anne sat directly across from him, an awkward location not only for the reason that it meant they *had* to look at each other sometimes, a situation which they currently preferred to avoid, but also because, due to the narrowness of the table, his long legs brushed against hers each time he so much as shifted in his chair. David, sitting to Anne's left, noted all of this with much amusement-it would only bolster his cause. Davy sat next to him, as promised, though he was also positioned smack dab under the unblinking scrutiny of Marilla, as his table manners still weren't quite up to par. Roy, occupying the chair to Anne's right, was sardonically reflecting on the irony of the situation. He had come here to win Anne back-now he was forced to observe all the minutiae of her and Gilbert's blooming courtship. If she looked at him one more time with those goo-goo eyes Roy swore he would scream.   
  
"Gilbert, will you pass the kiss-ahem-custard?" David asked. Gilbert narrowed his eyes as he picked up the aforementioned dish and handed it to David. Clearly he was just going to have to sit and suffer all through the meal while David made fun of him and Anne.  
  
Anne tried, to no avail, to evade Gilbert's gaze. It wasn't just that it was uncomfortable, but more like she was on the edge of something-something wonderful and perfect. She didn't want to spoil it by experiencing it all too soon, or, far worse, by jinxing it. She just wanted to get herself through this meal, and then... But she refused to reflect on it yet.  
  
"So, Anne, how was Jane's banquet last night?" Marilla inquired. "I never got a chance to ask you about it."  
  
Anne stared down at her food, not really seeing it. "Oh, it was lovely," Anne replied detachedly. "Everything went smoothly, no problems."  
  
"Except with your toast," David interjected with a grin.  
  
"You made a toast?" Mrs. Lynde raised her eyebrows.  
  
"Oh, um, kind of, except I made a blunder of it..." Anne began, embarrassed.  
  
Marilla raised her arms in exasperation. "For goodness sakes, Anne, what kind of scrape did you get into this time?"  
  
"No, no, it was fine, I just couldn't remember Mr. Inglis' first name..." she replied, blushing embarrassedly.   
  
"You couldn't remember his name!" Mrs. Lynde repeated, shocked. "That's terrible, Anne, how-"  
  
"Well, fine, what is it?" Anne interrupted, temper flashing a bit.  
  
"It's-it's definitely, no that's not right, oh yes, it's, um," Mrs. Lynde stammered, reddening.  
  
"Geoffrey," David supplied, "a fact which Gilbert so delicately provided without anyone suspecting a thing. Actually," he added mischievously, "no one else could figure out why Anne was stumbling in her toast. How did you know what her dilemma was, Gil?" He smiled sweetly at his friend.  
  
Gilbert perceived that everyone at the table, save Anne, was peering at him curiously. He shrugged and tried to brush it off. "I don't know."  
  
Diana caught David's eye, saw him nod ever so slightly, and thus spoke. "Come on, Gilbert, really, how did you know what to do? I couldn't even tell she was having any sort of crisis."  
  
"It wasn't a *crisis*," Anne protested, but everyone ignored her and stared steadily at Gilbert, awaiting a response.  
  
He shrugged again. "It was just, I don't know, obvious I guess. Her eyes kept flickering to him, then she would try not to look at him, or something. It wasn't a big deal, really," he concluded hurriedly, carefully avoiding Anne's eyes.  
  
Anne opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again as if in the throes of some inner controversy. Finally she spoke in an unnaturally quiet tone. "Yes it was."  
  
David raised his eyebrows. Wow, he hadn't expected this.  
  
Gilbert raised his head and met Anne's steady gaze. For a moment a current of electricity seemed to spark between them. Gilbert wished fervently that he and Anne were alone so he could, well... But with all these people surrounding him he could do nothing but shrug and go red in the face.  
  
Anne continued, flustered. "I mean, you made *yourself* look like an idiot when I was the real fool. And I hadn't even been..." her voice trailed off.  
  
"Hadn't even been...?" David encouraged. Gilbert shot him a killer look.  
  
Fortunately for Anne and Gilbert, Marilla broke the discomfiture with a loud rap on Davy's knuckles. "Davy Keith, how many times have I told you not to do that?"  
  
Davy, index finger globbed with strawberry jam and raised midway to his mouth, looked down at the table guiltily. "Sorry, Marilla," he muttered, lowering his hand.  
  
David struggled to maintain his preternaturally solemn expression. How many times had he done that when he was a kid?  
  
Roy heaved a sigh and glanced down at his pocket watch. How much more of this was he going to have to endure? He looked from Anne to Gilbert one last time and decided he'd had enough. Abruptly, he stood up, making a show of staring at his watch in disbelief. "Goodness, is it already three o'clock?" he exclaimed, in such a stiff and forced tone of surprise that David almost snorted with laughter. The man was a terrible actor. It was obvious he just wanted an excuse to leave.  
  
"I promised someone that I'd meet them in Charlottetown tonight and the train leaves at 3:30. I give all my apologies, Miss Cuthbert, Mrs. Lynde, everything's wonderful, but I really must be going," Roy continued.  
  
Anne likewise saw through Roy's poorly constructed façade. "Really? You can't stay?" she asked, feeling guilty though she knew she wasn't at fault.  
  
"No, I'm sorry," he replied, looking anything *but* sorry. His eyes flickered toward Gilbert one last time, then he got up to leave the table.  
  
Anne glanced helplessly at Gilbert, and saw him nod ever so slightly. She rose to follow Roy to the front door, rushing to reach it first.  
  
She blocked him from leaving. "Listen, Roy, I'm really sorry..." she began in a low voice.  
  
"Don't be," he responded, a little bitterly. "You love him, it's obvious. In fact, you've always loved him, haven't you?"  
  
Anne hung her head and didn't respond.  
  
So I was just the complication in their relationship, he thought in disgust. Just the guy who made her realize what she was missing. But all he said aloud was, "Good-bye, Anne."  
  
**********  
  
By the time Anne had reoccupied her seat at the table, the atmosphere in the room seemed changed. Davy and David kept shooting each other significant looks, while Marilla observed warily. Anne allowed herself one small smile at Gilbert, to reassure him, which of course David perceptively intercepted.  
  
"Why so happy, Anne? You seem almost, I don't know, *blythe*," he stated, pretending to scrutinize her with great care.  
  
Diana and Fred giggled inaudibly.   
  
Suddenly there was a loud clatter, followed by another, and then a continuing noise as if something was rolling on the floor. Sure enough...  
  
"Oh no, my prize marbles! They must have slipped out of my pocket!" Davy exclaimed in rather overdone distress.  
  
"Oh, that's terrible!" David cried, right on cue. "If they roll around on this floor too much they'll get scratched and ruined! This isn't a good surface for marbles!"  
  
"When'd you become a marble expert?" Gilbert muttered drily.  
  
"How did they fall out of your pocket, Davy?" Mrs. Lynde asked. "Do you have a hole?"  
  
"I must," Davy replied, eyes wide.  
  
"Davy, can you see where your marbles are right now? It's very important that they don't roll around anymore," David explained seriously.  
  
Anne rolled her eyes.  
  
Davy peered under the table. "I think there's one under your chair, Anne, and, yes, there's one right by you, too, Gilbert."  
  
"Well, goodness, we better go under the table right now and retrieve them," Gilbert said sarcastically.  
  
Anne smiled at him wryly as they both got down off their chairs onto their knees. Gilbert read her eyes and knew what they were both thinking. Hmmm, a setup?   
  
"What's taking so long under there?" David asked loudly as they each picked up the marbles.  
  
Anne raised her arm as if to smack him in the leg and looked at Gilbert pleadingly. But Gilbert shook his head and pointed to David's shoes, both of which were coming untied. Anne recognized his plan almost immediately and nodded her head vigorously in agreement.  
  
Gilbert slid back up to his chair. "I'm picking mine up very carefully so I don't scratch it," Anne's voice came from under the table as she finished tying David's laces together.  
  
David frowned at Gilbert, who widened his eyes and shook his head in a mock show of innocence. Anne stood up and handed the marble to Davy triumphantly. "Here, I think it survived the experience," she said, trying to hide the sarcasm in her tone.  
  
Then... "David, can you get up and grab the cookie platter in the kitchen?" Anne asked, ignoring Marilla's strange look. "You're closest."  
  
"Sure," David responded naively, though a bit wary of the triumphant glances Anne and Gilbert were throwing at each other. Had they done something to the cookies?  
  
He pushed his chair out and stood up. As he attempted to take a step toward the kitchen, though, his laces caught on each other and he fell forward, flat on his face.  
  
"Touché," Gilbert said, snickering.  
  
Post-Author's Note: Right. So David got his comeuppance...I couldn't let he and Davy take *all* of Anne and Gilbert's thunder, could I? Anyway, so the next part (part 20) will be the last. I know what I want to happen (obviously) so hopefully it won't take too long to write. As always, please review. 


	20. Part 20

Pre-Author's Note:   
  
First of all, I'd like to dedicate this installment to Emma, who endures/suffers through English Lit and chemistry and math and Portrait and yearbook with me and also manages to find time to write hilariously funny (did that make sense?) fiction and poems. She also came up with the tying the shoestrings together idea that I used in the last part, so you all can thank her for that. :)  
  
Secondly, I'm sorry this part took so long, but I do have good excuses. And because I'm in a mood for self-pity, you're going to hear all of them. :) Well, there was the week where I was sick. I even missed a day of school (if you knew me personally you'd realize how shocking that is). I had a sore throat and my voice took on that horrible hoarsey quality (you know, where all you have to do is begin to talk to someone and they immediately say, "Awww...I'm sorry. Why are you in school?"). Okay. And then there's yearbook. ::begins to scream insanely:: Final deadline in less than a week! Aaah!  
  
Okay, I'm done with my rant. All usual disclaimers apply (as in, you can *dis* me if I *claim* anything that isn't mine).  
  
__________  
  
XX  
  
Gilbert, elbows propped on the handrail of the bridge, stared meditatively at the sun setting over the Lake of Shining Waters. Tea had been a success, he reflected, as David would be going back to his three-day-a-week job teaching the summer term at White Sands with his ego brought down a peg.   
  
Suddenly he spotted a reflection in the glossy surface of the pond beside his own. He lifted his head and straightened his posture to face Anne.  
  
"Blythe," she said, responding to his gaze with a curt nod, "I wanted to extend congratulations on the spur-of-the-moment concoction of such a wonderful plan this afternoon." She offered him her hand solemnly.  
  
He shook it, just as soberly. "And I wish to commend *you* for the brilliant execution of the plan, Shirley," he responded.  
  
Anne burst out laughing, well aware of (but not acknowledging) the fact that the handshake had lasted much longer than was normal. "I don't know, that moniker just sounds funny," she said.  
  
Gilbert changed his tone slightly. "Would you rather you had a different last name?" he asked in a failed attempt at nonchalance.   
  
Anne's heartbeat started to increase exponentially, but she just turned toward the sunset and tried to change the subject. "Isn't the world beautiful?" she asked lightly, resting her hands on the bridge. "Everything just seems beautiful to me tonight."  
  
Gilbert too placed his hands on the rail, but his eyes remained fixed unblinkingly on Anne. "Yes."  
  
Seeing this, Anne protested. "But you're not even looking at the sunset."  
  
"I know."  
  
Anne blushed. Could Gilbert Blythe, the former constant companion of the belle Christine Stuart, really think she was beautiful?  
  
Seeing that his point had hit home, Gilbert turned again toward the water. "I wonder if Mr. Barry's dory is still down there?" he remarked, seemingly out of the blue.  
  
Anne laughed a little. "Well, I would imagine so," she responded. "Unless it's disintegrated or something." She peered down into the pond, not to search for the long-lost dory, which the murky depths would have hidden even *if* it was still there, but to look at her and Gilbert's watery reflections. Three years ago she would have avoided any situation that put them alone together in such proximity-now she welcomed it. She then raised her eyes to her hand, which seemed to be sliding of its own accord toward Gilbert's on the rail.  
  
Gilbert cleared his throat. "You know I didn't mean what I said last night, right? Of course I'm glad I saved you that day in the boat, I just-"  
  
"Oh, don't worry, I know-"   
  
Their hands touched, sending a spark through both their bodies. Gilbert swallowed audibly, then continued. "And I never, ever, thought that you were going to marry Roy for his money, I don't know what possessed me to say that."  
  
Anne met his eyes briefly, then looked away, thrilled by the intensity in his eyes and half-scared that she was so thrilled by it. "I said worse things to you," she replied in such a low tone that he could barely make out the words, "I made you suffer more. I don't think you should have to apologize."  
  
Gilbert lightly placed his hand on top of hers, exerting the same gentle pressure reminiscent of a similar situation four years ago, only this time she didn't snatch it away.   
  
"In fact," she went on, almost bitterly, "I think I've said only things I didn't mean to you ever since you've gotten well."   
  
Gilbert started to speak, but the expression on her face made him stop. He allowed her to continue, realizing this was something she had to say.  
  
"You certainly didn't-didn't *beg* to marry me," Anne said, voice breaking and unable to look him in the eye. "I can't believe I said that. I-"  
  
Gilbert shook his head. "No, no, that was Josie's fault, she can inject poison into anything."  
  
"And that's another thing. Why did I fall for Josie's stupid trick? And then lower myself to her level? And Roy! I managed to mess with his feelings again!"  
  
"Well, that wasn't your fault, it was your ears," Gilbert began to protest, but was interrupted by an impassioned Anne.  
  
"I just-I bungle up everything! I make all these mistakes, and-"  
  
"And *everyone* does, Anne. I do, certainly."  
  
Anne let go of his hand and turned to face him directly. "Fine. What's the biggest mistake you've ever made?" she challenged.  
  
A smile slowly spread across Gilbert's face. "I asked you first," he responded simply.  
  
Anne shot him a baffled looked. "What? You don't make any sense. No, you didn't, I just..." A sudden realization dawned upon her. She thought back to two weeks ago, at Echo Lodge, when she had accidentally mentioned her-  
  
"Your second greatest mistake," Gilbert finished the thought for her. "Roy was your second greatest. But you wouldn't tell me what was first." He took a step closer to her. "Will you now?"  
  
Her cheeks burned under his fervent gaze. She abruptly turned her head, not wanting him to see the tears that were forming in her eyes.   
  
"Well, I think if I said no, it would be my new biggest mistake," she answered wryly. "But-I think you know what it is, Gilbert."  
  
Gilbert smiled, then softly cupped her chin in his hand and gently turned her face back toward him. "Do I?" he asked slowly, raising his eyebrows.  
  
Finally she spoke again. "I was just so, so stupid, Gilbert. I don't know how on earth I managed to delude myself for so long-I guess I got really good at it. But that day-and the look in your eyes...I wish I could do it over again, I wish I had never made you look like that."  
  
He smiled at her and stared deeply into her eyes. "Does how I'm looking at you now make up for it?" he asked softly.  
  
Anne allowed herself a small smile. "Wait. You still haven't answered *my* question. What was *your* greatest mistake?"  
  
"Having this conversation right now instead of kissing you immediately upon sight," he responded straight away.   
  
Anne rolled her eyes and lightly pushed him away. "No, really."  
  
He sobered. "I always think I should have waited," he began, deliberately. "That you weren't ready and I knew it. Maybe if I had waited until summer, or the next year..."  
  
Anne looked up at him thoughtfully. "I don't know. Maybe it wouldn't have made any difference. This might sound odd, but maybe-maybe you *had* to ask me before I knew."  
  
He nodded slowly, warming to the idea. "And maybe you *had* to say no. Maybe all our mistakes happened for a greater purpose."  
  
"Almost like they were destined to happen," Anne added, drawing closer to him.  
  
"So, Anne," Gilbert said softly, pulling her tightly against him, "will you fulfill that purpose, and make your mistakes together *with* me from now on?"  
  
Eyes grey and shining, she stroked his cheek in a sudden show of tenderness and pulled him into a kiss. It was all the answer that he needed.  
  
__________  
  
Post-Author's Note:   
  
::sobs:: And that's the end! Well, it was fun while it lasted, but...it's time to move on to other and greater things. Which I will do, and which I will be better equipped *to* do if all the readers tell me what kind of L.M. Montgomery stories they'd like to see in the future. I've read every single one of L.M. Montgomery's books, barring none, and I'm open to any fanfiction ideas. Do you want more Anne, or maybe Anne's children, or would you like an Emily story, or Pat, or the Story Girl? I'm open to all suggestions, people!   
  
Also, since this is the final part, I do entreat all of you who've been reading this story but haven't reviewed for one reason or another (even the best of us do it) to please review this part either to tell me what you thought of the story, what other LMM characters I should consider writing about, or both! Thanks for reading!  



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